The Captains Prerogative
by CaptainLyssa
Summary: Captain Kathryn Paris has never experienced issues serving on the same vessel as her husband due to Tom's role as an Intelligence officer. When they get stranded together in the DQ, on the same ship, how is their personal and professional relationship going to survive the journey home. Add the Maquis, with whom Commander Paris spent 6 months undercover and trouble is bound to ensue
1. Caretaker

**Part One: Caretaker**

Shimmer.

Whine.

Three men from the Maquis ship appeared on the bridge of _Voyager_. The officers at the tactical and operations stations immediately drew their weapons in response to the perceived threat. Even the young woman at the helm stood and twisted around, phaser in hand and pointed at the invited intruders.

"Lower your weapons," ordered the Captain, indicating the command applied to both crews with a wave of her hand and intense look. Those in Starfleet uniform complied instantly, as did one of the leather clad terrorists. "You won't need those here," the woman's grey eyes narrowed on the Maquis Commander. Only when Chakotay indicated his companions should follow her order did the Captain's orbs flick to the man she hadn't seen in almost six months. A slight smirk curled up the corners of her lips as she greeted her long-time colleague. "It's good to have you back, Mr. Paris."

"It's good to be back, Captain," the blue eyed blond smirked, unable to hide his irrepressible nature, even under the current circumstances. Turning to the Maquis Commander, his shoulders shrugged carelessly as Tom offered "sorry, Chakotay."

"Were you going to deliver us into their waiting hands, Loc…Paris?" spat the incensed man, his expression one of betrayal.

"My mission," Tom Paris's blue eyes narrowed to become a stormy grey, "was to accumulate information on Cardassian activities, and infractions against the Federation-Cardassian treaty. The best way to achieve that was infiltrating your organisation. Serving on _Val Jean,_ and with you in particular, was just chance."

"We have a lot to accomplish," the Captain interrupted the glacial glares between the two men on her bridge. "I suggest we all concentrate on finding our people and getting ourselves back home. Mr. Paris, you can use my ready room to change into an appropriate uniform."

"Yes, Ma'am," he responded easily. In a lightning fast change of attitude, a cheeky grin accompanied the twinkle in Tom's orbs before he confidently moved towards the doors beside the Vulcan's tactical station.

Unwilling to show any emotion in the charged atmosphere, the Captain's lips curled further at the corners with the provocation. It was obvious Mr. Paris's natural wit managed to improve the mood and the Captain's attitude in even the most trying situations. Instead of allowing her gaze to follow the childish man, Kathryn called to her tactical officer, "report, Mr. Tuvok."

"Based on my initial reconnaissance, Captain, I am convinced we are dealing with a single entity in the array," the Vulcan stated in an emotionless tone. "I would suggest he scanned our computers in order to select a comfortable holographic environment in which to linger, in effect, a waiting room to pacify us prior to biometric assessment."

"An examination?" the Captain exclaimed. Yet it made sense to her scientific mind.

"It is the most logical explanation. Why else would he have released us unharmed?" Tuvok questioned.

"Not all of us were," Tom Paris reappeared on the bridge in a black uniform with command red piping across the chest and at the cuff. No rank appeared at his collar, nor did he wear a com badge. Everyone understood he wasn't under the Captain's chain of command in the Intelligence uniform. "May I lead an away team to the array, Captain?" He asked politely, although he seemed to ooze authority.

Logically, sending an intelligence operative made sense. Yet the Captain hesitated just a moment too long. "Do I have a choice, Commander?" The Captain allowed her eyebrow to rise in a very Vulcan gesture.

"No," the irrepressible man returned, "but I thought it was polite to ask as this is your ship."

"Break out the compression phaser rifles, Mr. Tuvok," Kathryn agreed with a decisive nod of her head. Turning to Mr. Paris she stated, "I'll meet you in Transporter Room two, Commander."

Grinning like a six-year old, Tom stated, "I think I can handle this one on my own, Captain."

"I'm sure you can," she responded, finally unable to keep a full smile off her face. "It's your decided lack of diplomacy in this situation that worries me."

"I thought that was your reason for sending Tuvok," Paris's expression changed once again, just as suddenly as before. Beside him the Maquis Commander and security escort stood seething and dumbfounded respectively. It didn't stop Tom addressing them as if their superior officer. "Chakotay, Ayala, you're with me. You need to get B'Elanna back," Tom indicated the Maquis follow him to the turbolift. Mounting the two stairs, he didn't look back but continued to issue orders. "We'll divide into teams. While Chakotay and I are looking for Torres and Kim, your job, Tuvok," the Commander waited for the Vulcan to join them, "is to find out as much about this array as you can. It brought us here. We have to assume it can send us home."

"Orders, Captain?" Mr. Rollin's requested before the turbolift closed out on the away team.

"Keep them on constant transporter lock, Mr. Rollins," Kathryn stated, a wistful expression in her eyes as she watched the four men leave, before returning to sit in her chair, "and maintain Red alert."

"Aye, Captain," the response echoed slightly as the door finally hissed closed.

It was only then, Chakotay noticed the gold band encircling the third finger of Paris's left hand. He'd never worn the archaic symbol of marriage on _Val Jean_. Remembering the easy banter between Paris and Voyager's Captain, they'd obviously known and served with each other. Then Chakotay recalled a similar ring on the Captain's digit, flashing in the harsh light as she stood, watching them exit her bridge.

"Captain Paris will not be impressed with you upsurging her authority, Commander," Tuvok stated.

Even Chakotay could read the concern in the Vulcan's tone. It explained much of the subtle emotion saturating the atmosphere on the bridge. Shuddering, he knew what was coming, even before Loc…Paris opened his mouth.

"My wife rarely is, Tuvok," Paris grinned easily. "At least her ire will be aimed at me."


	2. History

**Part Two: History.**

"Admiral Janeway," Captain Paris stepped into his superior's office.

"Thank you for coming at such short notice, Mr. Paris," Edward smiled at the younger officer. "Stand at ease man, this is not official business. I have a personal favour to ask?"

Making a noise in the back of his throat formed the Captain's only response. Favour, personal or professional, from an Admiral no less, was something few would dare to deny. Captain Paris served with Janeway early in his career, reconnecting when their daughters attended the same school in San Francisco. They knew of each other, not enough to label the relationship more than colleagues.

"I believe you've met my daughter, Kathryn," Admiral Janeway indicated the young girl standing at his side.

Nodding, Owen Paris smiled brightly. "My twins and your daughter are in the same class this year." He didn't need to add that many of the generational Starfleet families enrolled their children in the same prestigious and exclusive school. Those carrying the Janeway and Paris name had attended the institution for over a hundred years.

"Hello, Sir," Katheryn offered politely before her expression changed to concern. "I want you to know, Captain, this was not my idea."

"What my daughter is trying to say," Edward smiled at the girl affectionately, "is that she's been accepted into Starfleet Preparatory School, along with your Catherine and Stephanie. As you know, they commence in a few months."

Now Owen Paris understood. "It's a very long commute from Bloomington every day with the workload required," he stated blandly. "You know, we have an old and very large house on the bay, not far from the Pre-Academy. My wife's always complaining it's not filled with children the way she'd like, even though my brood constantly have friends over. I'm sure _**my**_ Catherine and Stephanie would welcome the company. Besides, Róisín makes the commute every day to drop young Tom at school."

"Bright boy," Admiral Janeway commented.

"That's what his teachers tell me," Owen frowned slightly.

"Not living up to his potential?" Edward asked with mild concern.

"Hardly," Owen's expression faltered for just a second.

"I have one of those you know," the Admiral sympathised. "Phoebe's not as disciplined as Kathryn. I don't think she'll ever attend the Academy."

"My sister is the artistic type," Kathryn offered in her siblings' defence. "Starfleet is not in her blood."

"Tom's just lazy," Owen stated, regretting the outburst the moment the words were out of his mouth.

"Maybe," Kathryn offered with an easy smile, "I could spend some time with him. I know Tom's only seven, Captain, but I'm not one of his sisters. Besides," she managed a disarming grin, "I always wanted a brother, especially one who would follow me around and think I was special. The way Steph and Kath talk," pausing, she knew she'd said too much not to continue, "They leave Tom with Lizzy, a lot. I'm not sure that's fair on the poor kid."

Edward Janeway smiled good naturedly. "Matter of perspective, Owen. Maybe young Tom just wants to be doing what is sisters are."

Finally, the Paris humour erupted. "What, dressing in the latest fashions and chasing boys. He's more likely to appropriate my runabout and try piloting it."

"I think Katheryn did the same," Edward couldn't help the chuckle, "at about that age."

It was all arranged very quickly between the two great men. Kathryn Janeway would live at the Paris house from Sunday night to Friday evening. After school got out for the week, Steph Paris accompanied her friend to Indiana, sometimes with her twin, not so often with Lizzy Paris and on the rare occasion with young Tom, when his father would let him. Gretchen Janeway learnt to loath weekdays and prayed all four Paris children would transport to the old and roomy farmhouse for the weekend. She liked it best when Róisín Paris accompanied her children. The women found they had a lot in common with husbands almost married to Starfleet.

One year led into another and before anyone realised it, the Paris twins and Kathryn Janeway had been accepted into Starfleet Academy's San Francisco campus. Stephanie chose the command stream, Catherine Paris medical and Kathryn Janeway science. The visits to the old house on the bay started out weekly, all too soon became bi-weekly and finally monthly as the work load increased and leave passes decreased. By their second year, Kathryn and Stephanie visited once a semester, leaving their weekend leave pass for a trip to Indiana.

Nine-year-old Thomas missed his sisters but more especially their friend, who always had a moment to tease or play or explain some scientific concept that boggled him. Two years later, everything changed. Lizzy went off to Starfleet's Academy on Vulcan, choosing a diplomatic degree offered only on that world. She would come home for the yearly break, if she didn't choose to attend the summer session. Captain Paris took a more active posting on the _Al-Batani_. He came home one week in thirteen, leaving Mrs. Róisín Paris and her son rattling around in their San Francisco home.

"Mrs. Janeway," twelve-year-old Thomas Paris loved to come to the farm house with his mother. They visited Indiana more often, which gave him the feeling of being closer to Katie and maintaining the friendship. "Can I take one of the horses riding?"

"It will give your mother and I time to catch up," Gretchen smiled easily, watching the young man with boundless energy barrel out the back door. "I bet he's a handful," she offered to a tired looking Róisín Paris.

"I kind of miss the girls, now that's its only Tom and I," Róisín offered with a sardonic frown. "When Owen comes home, he and Tom do nothing but fight."

"It's the age," Gretchen offered easily. "Phoebe and her father were exactly the same. It improved when Edward finally accepted he couldn't control her life. Unfortunately, he turned his attentions to Kathryn and was made an Admiral at the same time."

"That might have been to Kathryn's advantage," Róisín managed though her laughter. "Oh, Gretchen, they're cut from the same cloth, your husband and daughter."

"I think," the older woman stated easily, "you don't give your son and husband enough credit."

Sobering at the words, Róisín shook her head. "Believe me, it's exactly the opposite with Tom and Owen. The girls, they are all their father. Tom, he's just not put together that way."

"You don' think he'll go into Starfleet," Gretchen asked curiously. "From what I've seen, young Tom's made for it, especially with all that energy and drive."

"My son is only motivated by the things that interest him," Róisín sighed, "like flying and sailing. Anything that's dangerous seems to come naturally to Tom. It drives Owen mad!"

Unable to hold in her mirth, Gretchen Janeway chuckled. Tom Paris would always be a handful, especially for his future commanding officer. "I never would have believed it," she finally managed to draw in a deep breath. In all the years she known the young man, he was forever getting up to some mischief or the other. When Róisín Paris started to giggle in response, the women couldn't stop their laughter. It proved to be cathartic.

"That's what I love about coming here," Tom smiled, watching the two women share yet another joke when he returned from riding, "you always relax, Mom."

Another year passed and before anyone knew it, the Paris's and Janeway's were attending their eldest daughter's graduation from Starfleet Academy. Still on the _Al-Batani_ , Captain Paris requested Kathryn Janeway as his science officer and protégé. Six months into her posting came the Arias expedition. It changed them all. What should have been a simple scientific recognisance mission became a dark time in the lives of both families. For three weeks Captain Paris and Ensign Janeway were missing in action. When they came home, they never spoke of their incarceration in a Cardassian prison.

At fifteen, Thomas Paris followed his sisters into Starfleet Prep School as expected. At sixteen he cracked the codes to his father's computer in his home office. Now an Admiral stationed in San Francisco, Tom read about the torture that changed his father's personality. While he understood, Tomas Paris loathed the uncompromising man, yet continued to seek his approval and love. He'd never been able to do anything right, now nothing was good enough and he was expected to study day and night. Even his mother was having a hard time adjusting, as the heated exchanges between his parents when they thought he wasn't listening proved.

"Kate," Tom's shocked tone accompanied a similar expression. It had been a couple of years since he'd seen her for more than a moment. The changes were obvious, even if he hadn't read about her ordeal at the hands of the Cardassian's.

"Tom," she nodded stiffly. "I'm here to see your father. Admiral Paris has an errand for me."

"It's called babysitting his wayward son," Tom's face dropped. "Mom and Dad are going to some function for the weekend. Apparently, I'm not to be trusted, even though I'm seventeen and about to enter Starfleet Academy."

Her grey eyes watched him, impassively. Nodding, she entered the hallway and approached the Admirals home office. Knocking, Kathryn Janeway was admitted immediately. Fuming as he watched, it had never been that easy for Tom to get his father's attention. Yet the resentment was aimed at his father, not the newly promoted Lieutenant.

"You were right," offered Kathryn a quarter of an hour later, "and wrong. Stephany and Catherine will both be home. It's meant to be a house party, just like old times."

"Just like old times," Tom nursed a beer, even though he was underage. No one was paying the least attention to him and hadn't been since his parents left last night. Shaking his head, he'd observed his sisters and their friend covertly. If his father attempted to use this as an excuse for drawing Kathryn Janeway out, it failed miserably.

Catherine Paris and her latest boyfriend were necking on the couch in the living room, oblivious to anything or anyone. Tom hoped she wouldn't marry Lt. Commander Johnston. He was both boring and a stickler for the rules. Stephany and Jab were in the kitchen, talking about how to break the news they'd married on Trill two years ago and were expecting their first child. Neither Paris parent knew, thanks to the fact Jab took his wife's surname. Kathryn Janeway, more withdrawn than he'd ever seen her, swam in the pool and kept herself apart from everyone else. Only Tom knew why and became determined to do something about it.

"A penny for them," he offered, watching her faraway expression as she came up for a breath. He'd placed himself at the end of her lane, sitting with his legs dangling carelessly in the water.

"Another one of your archaic expressions?" she teased, but there was no humour behind her eyes. Treading water, she observed him impassively.

"We use to be friends once," Tom offered with a non-committal shrug. "You knew me well enough not to ask something so obvious."

"We grew up, Tom," she growled, looking away. "At least, I did."

"I read the report," was all he needed to say.

"And you think you can help me," she spat, incensed that he'd invaded her privacy, "when two years of counselling didn't?"

Shrugging, he lifted the bottle to his mouth before offering it to her. The expression in Tom's eyes challenging. Never one to back away, Janeway swam to the edge of the pool, pulled herself up to sit beside him and accepted the dare.

"Did that help," Tom asked several hours and drinks later. At some point they'd switched to a heavy Merlot found in the pantry. It was left over from one of his mother's weekends in the Nappa Valley. Just when they'd taken it to his room, neither would ever remember. Why they fell into bed was another mystery.

"Yes," Kathryn stated, "and no. Your technic leaves a lot to be desired, Mr. Paris."

Embarrassed, Tom couldn't tell her she'd been his first. It had been sloppy and over far too quick to please either of them. His expression and inability to meet Kathryn's eyes explained his inexperience. She laughed, which encouraged him to try again. One thing Thomas Paris hated, was being average. When he liked doing something, either he practiced until achieving perfection or became disinterested.

"I don't need you to tell me," he crowed, watching her mumble something under her breath, "I know that helped. One day, Kate, I'm going to marry you."

Snorting, Kathryn Janeway found the energy to turn over and face him. "You're not even officially a cadet, yet, Tom. I'm eight years old than you. Starting something is against the rules. How many more obstacles do you want to put in your way? I know you like a challenge, but this is ridiculous."

Taking her hand, he curled her fingers into her palm. "One," he kissed the digit, "I'll be done with the Academy in four years. Two," up came the next one, "I don't care that you're a cradle snatcher. I've almost known you since I was in that cradle. Three, fraternisation only applies if were in the same chain of command. Your science, I'm a pilot. Four, we already started something. I mean it Kate, even though you don't believe me. The day I graduate, we're getting married."

"You're impossible, Tom Paris," she sighed. Yet she felt hope that her life might just take on meaning sometime in the future.

"Sleep on it," he suggested. "I guarantee this will all look a lot more possible in the morning."

It didn't. She was gone before he woke up, but it was little more than Tom expected. He'd rattled her and knew he had to continue to do so. Kate's psyche needed a wake-up call. She'd been wallowing in a self-imposed misery for long enough. Life went on and he'd given her a taste of what it could be like.

A week went by before Kathryn Janeway came to the house again. She'd intended to slip in and out, unable to face Tom now he'd woken a need in her. As if he knew she was there, he appeared in the hall as she exited the Admirals study.

"You can add another complication," Kathryn informed him in her best ironic tone. She'd thought about little else in the last week, knowing that if Tom Paris wanted something badly enough, he'd find a way to get it. "I've been posted to _Sutherland_ for two years exploration of deep space."

Shrugging, Tom stated, "I'll wait and do some of that growing up your so fond of." A smile covered his lips at her expression of distress. "In the meantime," he offered with the wisdom of someone far older than his seventeen years, "I'm not expecting you to stay celibate, only uncommitted. Heck knows, after last weekend, I won't. Besides, you've heard of a comm system?"

With that, he placed a hand in the middle of her back. He'd discomposed her completely both with his words and touch. "When do you ship out?"

"Three days," Kathryn finally found her mind and managed to engage it. She didn't like the direction this was going. "I am not spending them with you, Tom Paris. I have to say goodbye to my parents."

"Want a bet," he challenged, before calling down the hall. "Mom, I'm escorting Kathryn to Indiana."

Coming out of the kitchen, Róisín Paris looked stricken. "Owen told me last night. I know it's a good posting for your career, but we're going to miss you around here." Giving the girl a hug as if she were one of her own children, tears appeared in the older woman's eyes. "Get out of here, you two. If I know Gretchen, she'll invite you to stay, Tom."

"I'm planning on it," he smirked.

"Luggage," Kathryn spoke in a sarcastic tone, hoping to get rid of the young man as they walked towards the local transporter station.

"Yee of little faith," Tom teased, leading her towards the Starfleet instillation at the end of the road.

It wasn't until they reached the old farmhouse that Kathryn realised the extent of Tom's association with her family. He kept several changes of clothes in one of the spare rooms. Her mother doted on him because he managed to do all those odd jobs her father kept putting off. Even Admiral Janeway didn't blink an eye when he returned home to find the young man at his dinner table.

"Did you come to exercise the horses today, Tom," Edward asked pleasantly.

"No Sir," Tom grinned, kicking Kathryn under the table. "I escorted your daughter home after she received her new orders. I want to tell you to expect me as a son-in-law the moment I graduate."

Laughing, Edward Janeway knew Tom Paris only too well. "If you can get my Kate to agree to that," his eyes settled on his daughter. Noticing her tension, he knew something had occurred between them. "I'll happily walk her down the aisle and into your care."

 _If this young man has managed to get Katie into bed after what happened to her,_ he considered watching the open body language from Tom Paris and the sudden closing of his daughter's gapping jaw, _then he might just be the man she needs_ _._ _I'll be watching over the next few days, but I believe I know why that young man is really here and my daughters not going to be sleeping alone_.

Catching his wife's eye, Gretchen's expression hid her well composed pleasure. It seemed she agreed with the relationship. "I'll clean up and bake a batch of caramel brownies while you exercise those old horses," her gaze rested on Tom and Kathryn. "I know they are your favourite and this calls for a celebration."


	3. Changes

**Part Three: Changes.**

"He's dead," Kathryn sobbed, falling into Cadet First Class Paris's outstretched arms.

"Dad told me," Tom responded, looking around wildly as he patted her back.

He'd expected this. _Herra_ had been recalled so Lt. Janeway could attend her father's funeral. They'd transported her directly to Starfleet HQ and Admiral Owen Paris broke the news, personally. The man had been astounded when his protégé declined his assistance but requested the whereabouts of his son before almost running out of his office.

Tom needed to get Kathryn somewhere private and fast, before she completely broke down. He knew how she felt because Tom Paris looked up to Admiral Janeway almost as much as his daughter. The only place he considered secluded was his room on campus. It would be in direct violation of almost every Starfleet regulation, not that Paris cared at this point in time. The woman in his arm was too important to him, her emotional wellbeing paramount.

"Come on," he led Kate away, cradling her tear stained face against his uniform in order to protect her reputation.

They were an odd sight, a Lieutenant and Cadet in an intimate clinch, hurrying across campus. In the last three and a half years, they'd managed to be in the same place on half a dozen occasions and only because Tom carefully planned the meetings to appear fortuitous. Each time started the same way, with Kate trying to dismiss the sexual tension between them, then ignoring her own needs before finally, ending up in bed with Tom.

Prior to their first encounter, Kathryn found out about Susie Crabtree from Lt. Stephanie Paris. She hoped it meant Tom had abandoned any thoughts of her in a romantic sense. Cadet Paris relieved Kathryn of that opinion on her first leave after a year on _Sutherland_. He'd casually informed Lt. Janeway how the liaison ended as they exercised the ageing horses on her parent's farm.

"I don't think any woman is pleased," Tom smirked irrepressibly, "when you call out Kate at an intimate moment. Susie knew about you, right from the start. I was very honest about my intentions toward her, that they were purely physical."

The second time, Cadet Third Class Paris accompanied his mentor, Admiral Janeway, on a tour between semesters. The older man ensured his path intersected with his daughter's ship for a three-day furlough. He also left the two of them alone overnight when called away for an urgent matter, giving his taciturn support for their fledgling relationship. It had been Admiral Paris that provided the location and means for their third encounter. Owen had been so shocked by his son's docility and compliance, he'd not bothered to question Thomas's motivation for accompanying him.

Kathryn Janeway had been transferred to the science vessel _Herra_ at the end of Tom's second Academy year _._ They'd spent a fortnight between her postings together. Then Justin came between them. Admiral Janeway dropped the fact Lt. Tighe proposed to Kathryn but she had yet to accept. Tom used his only weekend pass for the semester, organised transport and turned up at her quarters unannounced, using a message from Admiral Janeway as an excuse. Cadet Second Class Paris was never sure if Admiral Janeway paved his way or knew his daughter needed a swift dose of reality before she married a man she didn't love. Either way, Tom had sixteen hours to convince her to decline Lt. Tighe's offer.

"Have you given Justin your answer?" the young man demanded the moment Lt. Janeway answered her door. He didn't care who heard, Tom had just been grateful Kathryn had been in her quarters.

"Not yet," Kathryn stated shocked that Tom made the effort to confront her in person. She'd been careful in their weekly communication to avoid mentioning Justin or the length of their relationship.

"Aren't you going to invite me in," Tom demanded, "so we can discuss this?"

"You need to return to the Academy, Cadet," she hissed, embarrassed at the spectacle he was creating. "This is none of your concern."

"Like hell it's not," he stated, barging past her. Cadet Paris was not going to have such an important discussion in a public hallway. "And my name is Tom. You call it every time we've made love. I never expected or wanted you to live like a Tabern monk, Kate. You know I haven't. Convincing yourself you're in love with someone else, I never believed you capable of deluding yourself to this extent."

Lt. Tighe walked in at one of those inappropriate moments which explained, in vivid detail, why Lt. Kathryn Janeway had delayed providing him with an answer. He didn't make a scene, as much as he'd wanted to. Justin picked up the pieces of his shattered heart and left. Now he knew what Admiral Janeway meant when he'd said sorrowfully with a shake of his head, "I wish you the best of luck, son," the day he'd asked the man for his daughter's hand. Finally, when Kathryn declined his offer of marriage the following day, Justin smiled and shook his head. "I should have known it was another Admiral's son, but Tom Paris. Kathryn, he's ten years your junior and you'll never be able to serve on the same ship."

"You think I don't know that," she responded acidly. As much as she hated the look that said _you've been using me_ in Justin's eyes, he'd been the deluded one. From the beginning, Lt. Janeway insisted their relationship could only be physical. It didn't stop the guilt, knowing she should have stopped Lt. Tighe's hopes before they started.

This time, Tom knew, the game had changed completely. She needed him and he had every intention of being there for her. "I'm taking you to my room and you can tell me all about it."

"It was so sudden," she looked down at him seated on the couch. If Kathryn Janeway's mind had been functional, she'd have realised Tom Paris never sat still unless he was concentrating or at the controls of a ship. Pivoting in the tiny quarters, the Lieutenant took three steps in the opposite direction before coming to a halt against the wall. "I only spoke to Dad the day before yesterday. Then we get orders to return to Earth and everyone on board is asking why. I'm the second officer and they never told me."

"Kate," Tom finally stood. Approaching slowly, he placed a hand on each of her tense shoulders. "You would have done the same, in the Captain's place."

Turning, she suddenly stopped and looked at him. No longer the gangly boy, Tom Paris had grown taller and filled out. He wasn't a teenager anymore, he was a man. A man she needed to hold her, comfort her, to help her understand how her father, a man in his prime, in this day and age, could drop dead of a heart attack without warning. Tom's bright blue eyes were clouded with sorrow, for her and the situation she found herself in. All he wanted to do was sooth away her hurt. In that moment she knew his heart was hers, it always had been.

"Dad was supposed to be here," the tears suddenly came in a torrent, "to walk me down the aisle, to give me away."

"He will be," Tom pulled her into a tight embrace, laying a light kiss on the crown of her head, "in spirit. Kate, I feel your loss. Your dad, he was more of a father to me than my own. I'm going to miss him, I already do."

"Come with me," she pleaded, "to Indiana, until the funeral."

"I'll try," he offered without much hope.

Even Tom Paris, with the backing of his father's position couldn't cut through that much protocol in a single afternoon. He was already on report for missing several classes. He'd take whatever punishment they doled out. Officially, there was no relationship between Lt. Kathryn Janeway and Cadet Thomas Paris, so there was no reason to approve emergency leave from the Academy. Still, he braved expulsion, accompanying the woman he considered his fiancée to her family home and spent the night.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into Kate's ear the next morning. The alarm had gone off a few minutes ago and Tom needed to be back on campus before anyone missed him. He had enough time to shower and replicate a new uniform before hightailing it to the transport station.

"Go," Kathryn responded her throat dry and voice grave. "Mom, Phoebe and I will be in San Francisco Friday for the funeral. Your Mom has invited us to stay for the weekend."

"I'll use one of my passes," Tom kissed her quickly before reluctantly rising from her bed. "Kate, we'll come back here. Your Mom needs you and this is the only place you'll want to be."

"I need you," she whispered at his retreating backside, "right now."

Tom Paris looked back so many times; tempted to throw away his career and stay. Kathryn, more disciplined and use to ridged protocol, waved her hand to indicate he needed to leave if he was going to get back to San Francisco and the Academy on time. It didn't elevate the emotions clouding both their hearts, just made them harder to face alone.

Tom called the next day, spending hours listening to Kathryn as she worked through her loss. He couldn't concentrate on his lessons, a fact noticed by both his friends and lecturers. The weekend pass had initially been denied, until both Gretchen Janeway and Róisín Paris hounded Owen to pull whatever strings were required. Finally, understanding the bond between his son and protégé, Admiral Paris paved the way for Tom to take the day of Admiral Janeway's funeral off before spending the rest of the weekend in Indiana.

At the service, Tom Paris entered and sat with the Janeway family. He refused to be moved from Kathryn's side. Holding her hand while both attired in formal dress uniform, their bond could no longer be hidden. Officially, Cadet Thomas Eugene Paris was engaged to Lt. Kathryn Janeway, their marriage planned to coincide with the end of Lt. Janeway's enforced leave and Cadet Paris's graduation.

"He's too young to be getting married," Owen bellowed when he uncovered the extent of their relationship a month later. "How can Thomas know his heart? He's not even completed his studies at the Academy. I thought Kathryn had more sense than to get involved with, with such a, a playboy. He has no idea what that girls been through!"

"That will be enough, Owen Paris," Gretchen Janeway stated in a decidedly icy tone. "Your son's known about Kathryn's abduction and assault for years. Reading the official report, I believe, was the catalyst for his feelings turning from boyhood fancy to something more complicated. Edward wondered why you accessed the report from your home terminal. He'd set up some kind of warning signal to inform him if our daughter's privacy was ever compromised. A year later, Tom turns up with Kathryn and tells us he's going to marry her when he's done with the Academy. Edward offered to walk her down the aisle if he could get her to agree, especially after what she suffered at those Cardassian's hands. Even three years ago they were obviously sleeping together."

Stunned, Admiral Owen Paris didn't put up any more of a fight. The day his son turned twenty-one, the legal age of adulthood in the Federation, Tom waited for his bride inside an archaic church and Lt. Commander Kathryn Janeway married Ensign Thomas Paris. In direct opposition to her mentor's suggestion, she chose a posting on the first of the Olympic Class science vessels of the same name. On the way to their ship, Kathryn as the First Officer and Tom in the transport division, they enjoyed a short honeymoon.

"Why," Kathryn asked her new husband as they settled into their temporary quarters on the transport frigate, "didn't you tell your father about being recruited into Intelligence? It would have saved you that lecture before we left Earth's orbit."

"And miss the fireworks when he thinks I've completely corrupted his protégé," Tom sniggered. Watching his wife's dissatisfied expression, he sobered, marginally. "Not likely. Come on, you know the relationship I have with my father. It serves him right, thinking I'm in your direct chain of command. He should know you better. Starfleet would never allow it, even if we are both the children of prominent Admirals."

"Officially," Kathryn frowned, "transport on this class of ship is under the direction of the Chief Medical Officer. You'll be reporting to Commander Bryce."

"Unofficially," Tom stated, "I'm never going to be under your direct command."

"I'm your wife, Tom," Kathryn reminded, "unofficially you're _**always**_ going to be under my command."

"Then, you won't mind changing your name to Lt. Commander Paris," Tom mocked, but there was a wariness in his gaze. His blue eyes clouded slightly, demonstrating just how important the issue was to him.

Sighing, Kathryn Janeway lent over, extracting a PADD from the top of his bedside cabinet. Handing it to the man, she waited for his whoop of joy. "Don't say I don't know you, Mr. Paris." Pausing to let that sink in, she added with a smile, "besides, my mother would kill me, if I didn't take my husband's name."


	4. Intermission

**Part Five: Voyager**

"She's amazing," Kathryn Paris watched as the shuttle flew around the skeleton of her ship, "and for the next year, she's mine."

"What I wouldn't give," Tom looked up from his console with a long whistle, "to be back at the helm. All I get to do these days is write the holoprograms for the pilots. I really miss flying more than a class two shuttle."

"I'm not sure the Captain could resist your boyish good looks and charm, Mr. Paris," Kathryn mocked easily, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. She knew Tom loved to fly and his current assignment had been accepted on the basis of being stationed together and safe rather than his wants and needs. In the months they'd been at Utopia Planitia, Commander Paris had already become bored with his current posting.

"I'm not sure I'd want her to try," he returned with a wicked grin. "Besides, I'm told I grow on some people."

"Like a rash," his wife shot back with a raised eyebrow. "I've asked for Tuvok as my First Officer. It's time that man finally got a promotion. The incident when he dressed me down in front of Admiral Paris still haunts me."

"I remember," Tom's grin increased, "you comm'ed me from _Herra,_ infuriated. The Poor Vulcan didn't know you were only a few weeks from becoming his daughter-in-law. I'm sure he was embarrassed, although Tuvok would never admit to it."

Laughing, Kathryn added, "we've been friends since and I couldn't have managed on _Billings_ without him."

"I can't believe you actually got her, Kate," Tom shook his head, changing his mood suddenly. They were both on a rare day off, together, and had decided to take one of Utopia Planitia's shuttles to look over her new command. "The competition for _Voyager_ was fierce."

"Pays to be the unofficial Captain of a Science vessel for years," she shrugged her shoulders. "I think the Admiral did us a favour, Tom. I only got _Voyager_ because I proved myself on _Billings_. But this ship, she's in a class of her own."

"Have you told anyone about our future plans?" her husband asked, careful with his tone. They hadn't talked about expanding their family in months. It had been a rush after they'd received new orders within days of each other. Finishing up their postings, handing over their workload to new personnel and finally, getting a well-deserved two-week shore leave before arriving at Jupiter Station to take up their new assignments.

"Not yet. It's going to be at least twelve months before I'm finished this project. I thought we could wait until there's something to say," Kathryn stated tonelessly, watching her ship outside the view screen.

"Your call," Tom knew this was one subject he was never going to win. Kate would do what she needed first.

The months passed quickly. Both Captain and Commander Paris found their new projects taking up more and more time. Sleep became a luxury as deadlines loomed. _Voyager_ seemed to grow every day as the exterior was complete and construction of the internals commenced. Captain Paris commuted between Jupiter and Earth regularly as the project reached its final stages. She managed to get Tom released to act as her pilot on occasion, but, Kathryn soon learnt, there was a price to pay.

"We're putting in the bionural circuitry and gel packs tomorrow," Kathryn stated, standing at the mirror of their bathroom and brushing her teeth.

Coming up behind his wife, watching her reflection in the mirror, Tom kissed the top of her head absent mindedly. Being so much taller, they could watch each other with ease. Recently, he had been more distant and his eyes clouded with worry. Even their lovemaking had been reserved, almost detached, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Taking the brush from her mouth, Kathryn washed it and placed it back on the shelf. Turning into her husband, she placed her arms around his waist. "Tell me what's bothering you, Tom."

"I've been approached to go on a deep cover mission," he stated, yet the coldness in his tone spelt trouble. Kathryn learnt, in this mood, it was best to just hang on and let him take his time. "It's in the DMZ, proving the Cardassian's aren't abiding by the treaty. I'd have to infiltrate the Maquis to do it."

"No," the word came out like a plea. It might have been years in her past, but the memories of her ordeal never faded completely. There were still nights she dreamt about her experiences, nights when Tom would just hold her, knowing where her mind went. Looking up at him now, her eyes pleaded as her voice never could.

"Unless I have them unseal your records," Tom didn't hesitate, even if his voice betrayed his abject sorrow at bringing up this subject, "I don't have a valid reason not to go. This is too important to me."

"I don't want you to do this," Kathryn implored.

"I don't want those animals to do to another woman what they did to you, Kate," he pleaded. "I don't want another child to go through what I did, because of the mental damage they did to their parents. This is greater than you or me."

"How long," she asked, understanding he'd made his mind up.

"Six months," Tom answered tonelessly, "at least. By then you'd be finished with _Voyager_ and she'd be ready to hand over to the permanent Captain. I think I'll be done with Starfleet after this mission. I don't want this darkness in our lives any longer. It's time for some uncomplicated happiness."

"Ready to take after your brother-in-law, Jab," Kathryn tried for amusement. It fell flat. Captain Stephanie Paris and her non-Starfleet husband now had four children. They'd made their home on a Starbase close to Jaboban's planet of Trill.

"Don't tease me, Kate. I've been ready for a couple of years now," Tom's voice didn't change. "If it means becoming the stay-at-home parent, my price is a generational ship we can be on as a family. I won't stand in the way of your scientific mind, and I know you want to continue in command, but I want a safe posting."

"Will it be enough for you?" she questioned.

"Probably not," he finally smiled, it was melancholy, "but I have my holoprograming to fall back on. I'll have all the time I need to write while you're at work."

"When do you go," Kathryn asked, already making mental plans. Her compliance had been implied with a nod of her head.

"I need to give them my answer tomorrow. Training will start in San Francisco next month. I'll ship out a few weeks later," Tom recited as if reading the information off a PADD. Pulling away from his wife's embrace, Commander Paris's blue eyes became a stormy grey as emotion and regret filled them. "You have to be prepared, Kate," he stated softly, mournfully. "The reality is, I might not come home from this one."

"You will," she whispered, more to convince herself, "you always have before."

Tom Paris managed to get leave the weekend before leaving on a decrepit freighter headed for the DMZ as part of his cover story. They spent ninety percent of their time in bed. Commander Paris hadn't been gone a month when Kathryn felt the changes within her body. Afraid, Captain Paris visited Starfleet medical to have her suspicions confirmed. A week later, terrified she'd lose this child as she had the others with a stressful career, and never have another opportunity if her husband didn't return, she departed for Earth and a small procedure, ensuring her child would survive. Next came the legal appointments to protect their offspring, no matter what happened to its parents.

Then, it was time to launch _Voyager_. The shake down cruses took weeks and were confined to the immediate space surrounding the Solar system. Each night Captain Paris fell into bed exhausted, but not before checking her personal comm channel. Not once in the five very long months since Tom left for his mission had his unique signal been waiting. Admiral Paris, with his contacts in Intelligence, had been unable to uncover if her husband was still alive. However, his enquiries finally made Owen realise the man his son had become when he read the young Commander's service record.

"Kathryn," Admiral Paris's face appeared on the monitor in her ready room as his daughter-in-law finished up the last of _Voyager's_ test runs. "I have new orders for you. Fleet Admiral Nechayev wants you in her office at twelve hundred tomorrow. You're to proceed directly to spacedoc. My wife demanded you to stay with us tonight."

"I understand, Sir," Kathryn offered while watching her father-in-law's body language carefully.

Before she could ask, Owen Paris shook his head. "If I hear anything," he stated, "you'll be the first to know."

"Thank you, Owen," she signed off.

The next day, flanked by Admiral Paris, Kathryn was invited to take a seat at the conference table in Admiral Nechayev's inner sanctum. Behind the floor to ceiling window sat the Golden Gate bridge as a shining monument to human determination and tenacity. The sun shone brightly in a clear blue sky, yet Captain Kathryn Paris felt fingers of dread reach out and cruelly encircle her heart. There weren't many reasons for calling two high ranking and active members of Starfleet command into such a meeting. She fully expected to hear unpleasant and distressing news, as she had all those years ago when her father had passed.

"Admiral Paris, Captain Paris," Admiral Nechayev kept her tone neutral as she took her place at the head of the table. Beside the grey-haired woman, a gentleman in Intelligence black slid into a chair. "Thank you for coming at such short notice."

"Is he dead?" Kathryn managed to keep her outward composure while her grey eyes board into her superiors. She had to know.

"No," the Intelligence operative took over, "but we suspect Commander Paris's mission has been compromised with the Maquis leadership. Your husband is currently serving as first officer on _Val Jean_ under a former Starfleet officer named Chakotay. All indications are Chakotay remains unaware of Commander Paris's true affiliations. We need to extract him for debrief." The words _before his duplicity is uncovered_ remained unspoken.

"To that end," Admiral Nechayev took up the monologue, "I have appointed you permanent Captain of _Voyager_ , Kathryn. Your first mission is to enter the DMZ and bring our operative home."

"I understand," Captain Paris answered gravely. Internally, her heart rate slowed and she could feel the adrenalin surge starting to wear off. "When is _Voyager_ to leave Spacedoc?"

"You ship has been resupplied overnight. Lt. Commander Cavit will be your new first officer," the Intelligence operative stated easily.

"I have requested Lt. Tuvok," Kathryn responded, her tone respectful yet demanding.

"Mr. Tuvok will be your tactical officer. You have your orders, Captain," Nechayev dismissed, ending the meeting.

Unable to sit, Kathryn paced the mid bridge as _Voyager_ made her way to Deep Space Nine. She'd made this space her own on the trials. Now her ship had been deemed space worthy and cleared for active duty, Captain Paris refused to rest until Tom was back with her. Once they'd retrieved him, they had a lot to talk about and she intended to use the month long return journey to Earth wisely.

"Take her out, Lt. Stadi," the Captain ordered, her heart hammering with possibilities.

"Aye, Captain," the Betazoid nodded, her fingers working the panel before her. She felt her commanding officer's mixed emotions. For a first mission, chasing a Maquis raider into the DMZ was dangerous, especially in an untried state of the art vessel with a relatively inexperienced Captain and crew.

In the distance, Deep Space Nine retreated and _Voyager_ leapt into the unknown. Six days later, on the last known heading of the _Val Jean_ , they picked up a faint warp core signature that wasn't Federation or Cardassian. They lost it in the plasma storms of the Badlands, and without anyone who knew the region intimately, Captain Paris and Lt. Tuvok theorised the route the small raider would have taken, hypothesising towards the Terikof Belt. Neither wanted to voice their concerns, that the ship may have been destroyed with all hands lost.

That's when the displacement wave struck. No matter what they tried, Voyager was swept up and carried across the galaxy, into the Delta quadrant. When she came to, Captain Paris noticed the devastation on her bridge. Only once she'd taken stock, discovering that both Lt. Commander Cavit and Lt. Stadi had been killed did she call for a report from her straight out of the Academy Operations Ensign.

"Captain, if these sensors are working, we're over seventy thousand light years from where we were. We're on the other side of the galaxy," Mr. Kim's astonishment was palatable in his tone. "I'm not reading any life signs on the Maquis ship in stationary orbit five hundred kilometres away on the other side of the array."

"Which ship, Ensign," Captain Paris devoted a tiny corner of her mind to hope. If it were Tom's ship, at least they might be trapped in the Delta quadrant together when they located the crew. If it wasn't, Commander Paris was still alive and fulfilling his mission with another Maquis ship and Intelligence wanted their operative back. Either way, her husband couldn't be her first priority right now. Kathryn Paris had one hundred and forty souls under her care and the task of getting them safely home.

" _Val Jean_ , Ma'am," Harry stated.

It wasn't until three days later, when the Caretaker returned the crews of _Voyager_ and _Val Jean_ that Chakotay hailed the Federation ship. Watching the man intently, Kathryn did not allow her attention to deviate from the Maquis leaders face. It wasn't until his team beamed onto her bridge that she knew her husband survived his mission and her heart filled with joy. However, Captain Kathryn Paris didn't allow her emotions to show, maintaining her facade of calm authority. They had both known this day might come, when their professional paths would cross and one of them would have direct command over the other.


	5. Voyager

**Part Five: Voyager**

"She's amazing," Kathryn Paris watched as the shuttle flew around the skeleton of her ship, "and for the next year, she's mine."

"What I wouldn't give," Tom looked up from his console with a long whistle, "to be back at the helm. All I get to do these days is write the holoprograms for the pilots. I really miss flying more than a class two shuttle."

"I'm not sure the Captain could resist your boyish good looks and charm, Mr. Paris," Kathryn mocked easily, placing a hand on her husband's shoulder and giving it a quick squeeze. She knew Tom loved to fly and his current assignment had been accepted on the basis of being stationed together and safe rather than his wants and needs. In the months they'd been at Utopia Planitia, Commander Paris had already become bored with his current posting.

"I'm not sure I'd want her to try," he returned with a wicked grin. "Besides, I'm told I grow on some people."

"Like a rash," his wife shot back with a raised eyebrow. "I've asked for Tuvok as my First Officer. It's time that man finally got a promotion. The incident when he dressed me down in front of Admiral Paris still haunts me."

"I remember," Tom's grin increased, "you comm'ed me from _Herra,_ infuriated. The Poor Vulcan didn't know you were only a few weeks from becoming his daughter-in-law. I'm sure he was embarrassed, although Tuvok would never admit to it."

Laughing, Kathryn added, "we've been friends since and I couldn't have managed on _Billings_ without him."

"I can't believe you actually got her, Kate," Tom shook his head, changing his mood suddenly. They were both on a rare day off, together, and had decided to take one of Utopia Planitia's shuttles to look over her new command. "The competition for _Voyager_ was fierce."

"Pays to be the unofficial Captain of a Science vessel for years," she shrugged her shoulders. "I think the Admiral did us a favour, Tom. I only got _Voyager_ because I proved myself on _Billings_. But this ship, she's in a class of her own."

"Have you told anyone about our future plans?" her husband asked, careful with his tone. They hadn't talked about expanding their family in months. It had been a rush after they'd received new orders within days of each other. Finishing up their postings, handing over their workload to new personnel and finally, getting a well-deserved two-week shore leave before arriving at Jupiter Station to take up their new assignments.

"Not yet. It's going to be at least twelve months before I'm finished this project. I thought we could wait until there's something to say," Kathryn stated tonelessly, watching her ship outside the view screen.

"Your call," Tom knew this was one subject he was never going to win. Kate would do what she needed first.

The months passed quickly. Both Captain and Commander Paris found their new projects taking up more and more time. Sleep became a luxury as deadlines loomed. _Voyager_ seemed to grow every day as the exterior was complete and construction of the internals commenced. Captain Paris commuted between Jupiter and Earth regularly as the project reached its final stages. She managed to get Tom released to act as her pilot on occasion, but, Kathryn soon learnt, there was a price to pay.

"We're putting in the bionural circuitry and gel packs tomorrow," Kathryn stated, standing at the mirror of their bathroom and brushing her teeth.

Coming up behind his wife, watching her reflection in the mirror, Tom kissed the top of her head absent mindedly. Being so much taller, they could watch each other with ease. Recently, he had been more distant and his eyes clouded with worry. Even their lovemaking had been reserved, almost detached, as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Taking the brush from her mouth, Kathryn washed it and placed it back on the shelf. Turning into her husband, she placed her arms around his waist. "Tell me what's bothering you, Tom."

"I've been approached to go on a deep cover mission," he stated, yet the coldness in his tone spelt trouble. Kathryn learnt, in this mood, it was best to just hang on and let him take his time. "It's in the DMZ, proving the Cardassian's aren't abiding by the treaty. I'd have to infiltrate the Maquis to do it."

"No," the word came out like a plea. It might have been years in her past, but the memories of her ordeal never faded completely. There were still nights she dreamt about her experiences, nights when Tom would just hold her, knowing where her mind went. Looking up at him now, her eyes pleaded as her voice never could.

"Unless I have them unseal your records," Tom didn't hesitate, even if his voice betrayed his abject sorrow at bringing up this subject, "I don't have a valid reason not to go. This is too important to me."

"I don't want you to do this," Kathryn implored.

"I don't want those animals to do to another woman what they did to you, Kate," he pleaded. "I don't want another child to go through what I did, because of the mental damage they did to their parents. This is greater than you or me."

"How long," she asked, understanding he'd made his mind up.

"Six months," Tom answered tonelessly, "at least. By then you'd be finished with _Voyager_ and she'd be ready to hand over to the permanent Captain. I think I'll be done with Starfleet after this mission. I don't want this darkness in our lives any longer. It's time for some uncomplicated happiness."

"Ready to take after your brother-in-law, Jab," Kathryn tried for amusement. It fell flat. Captain Stephanie Paris and her non-Starfleet husband now had four children. They'd made their home on a Starbase close to Jaboban's planet of Trill.

"Don't tease me, Kate. I've been ready for a couple of years now," Tom's voice didn't change. "If it means becoming the stay-at-home parent, my price is a generational ship we can be on as a family. I won't stand in the way of your scientific mind, and I know you want to continue in command, but I want a safe posting."

"Will it be enough for you?" she questioned.

"Probably not," he finally smiled, it was melancholy, "but I have my holoprograming to fall back on. I'll have all the time I need to write while you're at work."

"When do you go," Kathryn asked, already making mental plans. Her compliance had been implied with a nod of her head.

"I need to give them my answer tomorrow. Training will start in San Francisco next month. I'll ship out a few weeks later," Tom recited as if reading the information off a PADD. Pulling away from his wife's embrace, Commander Paris's blue eyes became a stormy grey as emotion and regret filled them. "You have to be prepared, Kate," he stated softly, mournfully. "The reality is, I might not come home from this one."

"You will," she whispered, more to convince herself, "you always have before."

Tom Paris managed to get leave the weekend before leaving on a decrepit freighter headed for the DMZ as part of his cover story. They spent ninety percent of their time in bed. Commander Paris hadn't been gone a month when Kathryn felt the changes within her body. Afraid, Captain Paris visited Starfleet medical to have her suspicions confirmed. A week later, terrified she'd lose this child as she had the others with a stressful career, and never have another opportunity if her husband didn't return, she departed for Earth and a small procedure, ensuring her child would survive. Next came the legal appointments to protect their offspring, no matter what happened to its parents.

Then, it was time to launch _Voyager_. The shake down cruses took weeks and were confined to the immediate space surrounding the Solar system. Each night Captain Paris fell into bed exhausted, but not before checking her personal comm channel. Not once in the five very long months since Tom left for his mission had his unique signal been waiting. Admiral Paris, with his contacts in Intelligence, had been unable to uncover if her husband was still alive. However, his enquiries finally made Owen realise the man his son had become when he read the young Commander's service record.

"Kathryn," Admiral Paris's face appeared on the monitor in her ready room as his daughter-in-law finished up the last of _Voyager's_ test runs. "I have new orders for you. Fleet Admiral Nechayev wants you in her office at twelve hundred tomorrow. You're to proceed directly to spacedoc. My wife demanded you to stay with us tonight."

"I understand, Sir," Kathryn offered while watching her father-in-law's body language carefully.

Before she could ask, Owen Paris shook his head. "If I hear anything," he stated, "you'll be the first to know."

"Thank you, Owen," she signed off.

The next day, flanked by Admiral Paris, Kathryn was invited to take a seat at the conference table in Admiral Nechayev's inner sanctum. Behind the floor to ceiling window sat the Golden Gate bridge as a shining monument to human determination and tenacity. The sun shone brightly in a clear blue sky, yet Captain Kathryn Paris felt fingers of dread reach out and cruelly encircle her heart. There weren't many reasons for calling two high ranking and active members of Starfleet command into such a meeting. She fully expected to hear unpleasant and distressing news, as she had all those years ago when her father had passed.

"Admiral Paris, Captain Paris," Admiral Nechayev kept her tone neutral as she took her place at the head of the table. Beside the grey-haired woman, a gentleman in Intelligence black slid into a chair. "Thank you for coming at such short notice."

"Is he dead?" Kathryn managed to keep her outward composure while her grey eyes board into her superiors. She had to know.

"No," the Intelligence operative took over, "but we suspect Commander Paris's mission has been compromised with the Maquis leadership. Your husband is currently serving as first officer on _Val Jean_ under a former Starfleet officer named Chakotay. All indications are Chakotay remains unaware of Commander Paris's true affiliations. We need to extract him for debrief." The words _before his duplicity is uncovered_ remained unspoken.

"To that end," Admiral Nechayev took up the monologue, "I have appointed you permanent Captain of _Voyager_ , Kathryn. Your first mission is to enter the DMZ and bring our operative home."

"I understand," Captain Paris answered gravely. Internally, her heart rate slowed and she could feel the adrenalin surge starting to wear off. "When is _Voyager_ to leave Spacedoc?"

"You ship has been resupplied overnight. Lt. Commander Cavit will be your new first officer," the Intelligence operative stated easily.

"I have requested Lt. Tuvok," Kathryn responded, her tone respectful yet demanding.

"Mr. Tuvok will be your tactical officer. You have your orders, Captain," Nechayev dismissed, ending the meeting.

Unable to sit, Kathryn paced the mid bridge as _Voyager_ made her way to Deep Space Nine. She'd made this space her own on the trials. Now her ship had been deemed space worthy and cleared for active duty, Captain Paris refused to rest until Tom was back with her. Once they'd retrieved him, they had a lot to talk about and she intended to use the month long return journey to Earth wisely.

"Take her out, Lt. Stadi," the Captain ordered, her heart hammering with possibilities.

"Aye, Captain," the Betazoid nodded, her fingers working the panel before her. She felt her commanding officer's mixed emotions. For a first mission, chasing a Maquis raider into the DMZ was dangerous, especially in an untried state of the art vessel with a relatively inexperienced Captain and crew.

In the distance, Deep Space Nine retreated and _Voyager_ leapt into the unknown. Six days later, on the last known heading of the _Val Jean_ , they picked up a faint warp core signature that wasn't Federation or Cardassian. They lost it in the plasma storms of the Badlands, and without anyone who knew the region intimately, Captain Paris and Lt. Tuvok theorised the route the small raider would have taken, hypothesising towards the Terikof Belt. Neither wanted to voice their concerns, that the ship may have been destroyed with all hands lost.

That's when the displacement wave struck. No matter what they tried, Voyager was swept up and carried across the galaxy, into the Delta quadrant. When she came to, Captain Paris noticed the devastation on her bridge. Only once she'd taken stock, discovering that both Lt. Commander Cavit and Lt. Stadi had been killed did she call for a report from her straight out of the Academy Operations Ensign.

"Captain, if these sensors are working, we're over seventy thousand light years from where we were. We're on the other side of the galaxy," Mr. Kim's astonishment was palatable in his tone. "I'm not reading any life signs on the Maquis ship in stationary orbit five hundred kilometres away on the other side of the array."

"Which ship, Ensign," Captain Paris devoted a tiny corner of her mind to hope. If it were Tom's ship, at least they might be trapped in the Delta quadrant together when they located the crew. If it wasn't, Commander Paris was still alive and fulfilling his mission with another Maquis ship and Intelligence wanted their operative back. Either way, her husband couldn't be her first priority right now. Kathryn Paris had one hundred and forty souls under her care and the task of getting them safely home.

" _Val Jean_ , Ma'am," Harry stated.

It wasn't until three days later, when the Caretaker returned the crews of _Voyager_ and _Val Jean_ that Chakotay hailed the Federation ship. Watching the man intently, Kathryn did not allow her attention to deviate from the Maquis leaders face. It wasn't until his team beamed onto her bridge that she knew her husband survived his mission and her heart filled with joy. However, Captain Kathryn Paris didn't allow her emotions to show, maintaining her facade of calm authority. They had both known this day might come, when their professional paths would cross and one of them would have direct command over the other.


	6. Caretaker II

**Part Six: Caretaker II**

The whine of the transporter caught Captain Kathryn Paris by surprise. The away team had been gone a little over a quarter of an hour. Not enough time, in her opinion, to complete their mission. Sitting in her command chair, outwardly composed into the facade of a consummate Starfleet Officer, internally the woman allowed her heart to leap for joy and her mind to rejoice. Her husband was alive but she couldn't devote the entirety of her attention to the fact. Seventy thousand light years from home, they couldn't be together until she found a solution to _Voyager's_ current predicament.

 _I'll get this crew home_ , Captain Paris silently promised, looking at the very young faces surrounding her. _Until then, I have to use my husband's skills as a Starfleet Officer. Somehow, we have to separate our personal and professional lives until this journey is over. We achieved a working relationship on Olympia for four years, but I wasn't Tom's direct superior. He's my highest-ranking officer and my husband, so I can't ask him to take the XO's post and yet I will be forced to make the offer in accordance with Starfleet protocol. I always wanted Tuvok and I know the Commander in Tom will understand. Which leaves Tom with a background as an Intelligence officer filling what role in my crew?_

Turning and standing to watch the white light form into the shape of four men, Kathryn observed them carefully. One look at the expression on Tom's face, she ordered Commander Paris and Lt. Tuvok into her ready room. Her husband's eyes darting towards Chakotay made her include the Maquis Captain in the party. It seemed Tom's experience, both with the Maquis and on his clandestine missions might just prove to be of some use after all.

"Report," the Captain demanded, her focus narrowing to Tuvok. The Vulcan missed nothing and long association led Kathryn to trust his astute and accurate observations.

"Ensign Kim and Ms. Torres are no longer on the array. I believe the entity," the tactical officer reported succinctly, "has transported them to the fifth planet of the nearby star system. The energy pulses focused in that direction are capable of obscuring the transmission."

"Come on, Tuvok," Tom looked annoyed as he paced around the small room. Part of his Intelligence training included memorising information and not only regurgitating it, but analysing the data within a limited context. "That mad old man said, 'you don't have what I need. They might. No, you'll have to leave them.' Pretty self-explanatory, don't you think?"

"How so Commander?" Tuvok asked, as if Tom Paris was being illogical. They had known each other for ten years, introduced through their mutual acquaintance with the Captain. "I do not see how you come to any conclusion with limited information."

Watching in fascination, the Captain in Kathryn Paris needed to observe the dynamics between her two most highly ranked officers. Tuvok and Tom had not spent time together in more than cursory social situations. Should the journey home prove difficult, one would continue to be her professional council, the other her emotional sounding board. Tom Paris and Tuvok needed to work together, the Captain's sanity might just hinge on it.

"Biometric testing," Tom allowed one finger to rise while addressing each person in the room. "To what end, we don't know. However, Kim and Torres alone appear to have what the entity needs," up came a second. "Remainder of both crews returned to their vessels but not to their previous destination," a third finger appeared. "Obviously we're not required and sending us home is 'terribly complicated' because the entity doesn't have time," made his fourth point. "Which begs the question, time for what?"

"Look," Tom sounded slightly peeved when the three people in the room merely stared at him as if he wasn't making sense, "whatever that being represents, for some reason Ensign Kim and B'Elanna Torres meet his parameters and it has everything to do with the fifth planet of the system. He's sending energy pulses for some reason, which leads me to theorise that a civilisation of some kind exists there and is probably where Kim and Torres are being confined. Finally, the entity searched the galaxy with methods 'beyond our comprehension' to 'honour a debt that can never be repaid'. The answer to getting home lays at the end of those emissions and who ever lives there."

"I agree," Chakotay stated. The words came out as hard as the look he arrowed towards Paris. He had yet to forgive the man for infiltrating his organisation and betraying him personally. However, he'd proved his worth against the Cardassian's on multiple occasions and his piloting skills were well above average. Only now did Chakotay understand the reason why Paris had been so good as his first officer. "I want Torres back. As soon as I'm on my ship, I'll be setting a course to that star system."

Allowing a smile to turn up the corners of her lips, Kathryn Paris's attention focused on the Maquis leader. She knew neither ship had the capacity to travel beyond a quarter impulse until major repairs from the displacement wave were completed. It would take them months to reach the star system at their current top speed.

"I've read your Starfleet file, Mr. Chakotay," Captain Paris announced easily. "You had quite a career, including teaching advanced tactics at the Academy for almost a decade. What would your training say about a single small raider mounting a rescue mission under the present circumstance?"

"Two ships stand a better chance if they work in unity," he responded quickly and easily. However, his chocolate brown eyes watched the woman warily.

"Then may I suggest we call a truce, combine resources and get our people home, together," she offered, holding out a hand.

Taking the offered limb, Chakotay observed his counterpart for a few moments. She was typical of all Starfleet officers, but he had to wonder how her husband's presence on board, and the fact his ex-first officer turned out to be an Intelligence operative, would change the playing field. He'd never underestimate Tom Paris again, and it seemed his wife was just as astute.

"Then we find a way home, to the Alpha quadrant," Captain Paris added easily, dropping the man's hand. "My mission has nothing to do with you or your vessel, Mr. Chakotay. You'll be free to go on your way."

Understanding, a sarcastic smirk covered the Maquis leader's face. _Voyager_ had been sent after him to retrieve their operative. When they returned to the Badlands, it appeared Captain Kathryn Paris would look the other way as she ordered her conn officer to set a course for Earth.

"Then I suggest we get started," Chakotay responded, unable to keep the snide tone from his voice. "However, you can keep expelled cadet Nick Locarno, or should I say Commander Paris."

"Chakotay," Tom's expression exposed his regret, "I'd like to ensure B'Elanna gets back to _Val Jean_ just as much as you. She's one of the best engineers I've ever met. You're going to need her."

The assessing glare sent back by the Maquis Captain forced a shiver down Kathryn's spine. Tom held Chakotay's determined stare with something softer and less definable. It appeared the two men were locked in a silent battle with neither willing to give in.

"You know, Paris, I almost believe you," Chakotay suddenly grinned scornfully. "I hope you have fun explaining your last six months on my ship to your wife. Then again, Nick Locarno wasn't the type of philanderer that could have kept one."

"Mr. Tuvok," the Captain ordered, angered by the parting shot but attempting to mask her reaction, "would you ensure Mr. Chakotay and his crew-member are returned to their ship."

"Aye, Captain," the Vulcan's expression didn't change as he escorted the Maquis out the door. His dark eyes flashed a warning to his long-time friend and current Captain. While Tuvok had met Commander Paris on several social occasions, much of his information disseminated from Kathryn's descriptions of her personal life.

"My first officer, Lt. Commander Cavit was killed in the initial displacement wave," Kathryn stated as the door closed behind Tuvok. Watching Tom as he stood stock still in the middle of her ready room, the silence lingered, threatening to turn far too intimate for the discussion they needed to establish their working relationship. Her legs finally turning weak as Tom lifted his head and narrowed his azure gaze on her, Kathryn needed to lean against her desk to support her weight. Allowing only her eyes to rake over the man, Captain Paris remained in charge of her faculties, even if Mrs. Paris wanted to take her husband in her arms and never let go.

"Aaron Cavit?" Tom questioned, taking a step closer. "Appointed by Intelligence, no doubt."

Nodding, her mouth dry, Kathryn finally found the strength to continue her train of thought. "I need to replace him, temporarily."

"Tuvok," Tom decreed easily, taking another predatory step towards his wife. "You've always said it's time he received a promotion. Give the Vulcan a field commission and be done with it. Under the circumstances, Starfleet will uphold your decision."

"Commander," Kathryn warned, watching his mood change instantly at her rebuke.

"Yes, Captain," his tone had become gravelly and laced with disappointment as he took her meaning and corrected his behaviour.

"You're saying you won't do it," Kathryn asked, slightly amused and slightly concerned. As the Captain, her options were limited without another Starfleet ship or facility nearby.

"You know I can't," Tom's expression not at all disappointed, "and you know the real reason why."

"Our personal relationship withstanding," the imposing Captain emerged, "you're the highest-ranking officer with command experience. I'd be unwise not to consider you, especially in our current circumstances, and the appointment would only last until we returned to the Alpha quadrant."

"I don't want it," Commander Tom Paris responded, equally as determined, "I never did. This assignment was supposed to be my last, before resigning my commission entirely."

"You know these Maquis, Tom, what they're going to do next," the strategist in the Captain emerged. "I need that information beside me on the bridge if they break our armistice or interfere in finding a way back to the Alpha quadrant."

"Chakotay's annoyed," a smile covered the operative's lips and delight lit his blue eyes. "The man's a good Captain, even if he's far too trusting, which is kind of amazing in his position. It wasn't that hard to infiltrate his crew and that's what has got his attention, that he let a Starfleet Intelligence officer not only pilot his ship, but become his trusted first officer. He's taking this personally. As far as battle tactics go, you couldn't get someone with better natural instincts, but his ability to be courted is his downfall. I find it kind of funny, Chakotay's been sleeping with one of his crew, a Bajoran called Seska."

"That's a Cardassian name," Kathryn sucked in her breath sharply, understanding the subtle warning, or perhaps hint, about Chakotay's personality.

"I know that," Tom managed, finding amusement in the situation. "You'd think he would as well, even with her story of being born and raised in a work camp. It seems B'Elanna, _Val Jean's_ Engineer, had a crush on the man since he recruited her and is suspicious of Seska's motivations. I befriended the Maquis temperamental Klingon and Torres attempted to use the relationship to make Chakotay jealous." Shrugging easily, the Intelligence officer once again emerged, "I used the bond to improve my unscrupulous character. Believe me, when Torres finds out, I'm going to need a security detail if she comes within fifty meters."

"A woman scorned," Kathryn allowed a glint of humour to enter her grey orbs while the tactician recorded this information for later possible use. "What sort of crew does he have."

"Undisciplined," Tom stated, a smirk covering his lips, "untrained, fanatic. In short, anyone is willing to join the fight with even the smallest amount of experience. The only reason I got on board was my piloting skills. My winning personality did the rest."

"I bet," Kathryn couldn't stop the short chuckle. "However, I'm still short a First Officer and you are my best option."

"Starfleet won't see it that way," he warned with a careless shrug of his shoulders. "Besides, you need a competent Conn officer if a crewman is all you can manage at the helm. I can give my advice just as well from the front of the bridge as standing beside you. I gather your losses were as devastating as _Val Jean's_."

"First, Medical, Con and Engineering," the Captain swore, her guilt surfacing, "along with twenty-seven other crew."

"So, the entire Senior team," Tom whistled, understanding the concern in his wife's gaze. He'd seen her this guilt ridden once before, yet it explained her insistence on his taking the first officer's position. "Chakotay's going to have the same trouble if he can't get Torres back. Not only is she an amazing engineer, she had two years at the academy and is, somewhat, disciplined. Mike Ayala graduated in the operations stream, never taking up his first posting, preferring to join the Maquis. He has potential, especially if he had someone like Tuvok's tutelage. There's not anyone else qualified for Officer status on _Val Jean_. The rest aren't even suitable as crewmen on any federation vessel."

"How does he keep that ship flying," the Captain asked, shaking her head with disbelief.

"He had me," the cocky pilot she'd fallen in love with emerged.

"So, you're volunteering as helmsman?" Kathryn asked, puzzled. Tom's hands itched, in those early days of Voyager's construction, to be back at the conn. It was a waste of his skills and they both knew it.

"Yes, Ma'am," that predatory expression was back, with the impish behaviour that characterised Tom Paris.

"Why?" Kathryn demanded, not sure if the Captain or the wife was asking.

"There will be one level of command between us," Tom had finally reached the woman. Taking the liberty of privacy afforded by the Captain's ready room, he wrapped his arms around Kate and kissed his wife. Not with the passion she obviously expected, but sweetly, leaving her with the promise of connecting completely after they were out of danger and when they had the time. "Starfleet won't be able to take _Voyager_ from you, if that's what you want, when we get back to the Alpha quadrant. Tuvok's reputation is above reproach. His Vulcan ethics impeccable and ability to act logically undeniable. In short," Tom grinned, "he'll keep me on my toes and you true to your Starfleet principals."

"Then you'd better get to your station," Captain Paris stated, understanding her husband's reasoning. "Oh," she managed, barely hiding the hunger in her expression, " _Voyager_ is on yellow alert and double shifts until repairs are completed. I don't want you terrifying my junior officers in that uniform, so change before you go."

"Here," came the wicked response, "in front of my Captain."

"Yes, here," Kathryn knew she should stop this before it went any further. In the back of her mind, she needed to ensure he'd returned to her without more scars. The Cardassian's had given them enough to cope with.

"Not a good idea, Kate," Tom whispered harshly, trying to control his suddenly spiking libido with his wife so close, "when I haven't seen you for six months. In this uniform I have to comply with the rules and regulations. Take it off and I won't be held responsible for my actions."

"Your reluctance is acknowledged Commander," she sighed, knowing their moment together had ended. "I'll be on the bridge. I want a full report on the repairs needed for helm control within the hour. At some point we'll have to discuss your duties beyond the con, which are consistent with your rank."

"Slave driver," Tom managed with a soft smile that made promises for later. He headed for the replicator. "You know," he hesitated before calling up the correct uniform, "I'm not sure placing any rank on my collar is a good idea until we get back home."

Raising an eyebrow, the Captain's answer rivalled that of her Vulcan Tactical Officer.

"If you do promote Tuvok," Tom added weight to his words which indicated his opinion on the matter, "the crew would address him as Commander."

"Your point," Kathryn suggested, "is my First Officer should out rank you, even in yellow." Sighing, she understood only two well. "As Intelligence, you have the right to leave your pips off altogether."

Grinning, Tom simply nodded. Picking up the crisp, clean fabric, he considered his next words vary carefully, knowing a Starfleet crew would hate the suggestion. "On _Val Jean_ , energy and spare parts were always in short supply. Maybe we need to consider something like the rationing system they use. If it takes us any length of time to convince that entity to send us home, we're going to need to conserved resources."

"Agreed," Kathryn turned to look at him. "I'll have the Operations Officer submit a proposal. Commander," she hesitated before letting out a heavy sigh.

"Yes," he answered reluctantly, knowing what would come next. He stood still and listened, not because he didn't understand, but because his wife needed to say the words.

"You're right," Kathryn sighed again, adding an intense look at the man before her, "anywhere but our quarters, its Captain. And Tom, I'll consider your opinions in regard to Tuvok and your rank."

"Yes, Ma'am," his tone cheeky, his eyes communicated his compliance, even if he didn't like the constrains working together would place on their personal relationship.


	7. The Journey Begins

**Part Seven: The Journey Beings.**

"Commander," Tuvok greeted as he unobtrusively approached the blond man sitting alone in deck two's forward lounge. Both officers had been on duty for over twenty hours, so far, and there seemed little relief in sight. Aiding in any capacity to repair _Voyager's_ many damaged systems, they maintained regular meal and rest breaks for the crew. However, those rules didn't encompass the current command team, especially the Captain.

"Take a seat," Tom offered with a friendly smile, pushing away his empty bowl. He waited until the officer's mess was likely to be empty before escaping for a well-deserved meal. "Even for a Vulcan, you seem to have the wait of the world on your shoulders. I know how heavy that extra half pip can be."

"That is not an accurate perception," the tactical officer stated blandly, continuing to stand and look directly at the wall behind Mr. Paris. An hour earlier Tuvok uncovered the decreasing time period between energy pulses directed at the fifth planet. After a short discussion with the Captain, his worry for her continued wellbeing increased. Unusually for a Vulcan, he'd debated how to approach the situation fraught with complications. Finally, Tuvok decided on this course of action as the least troublesome but largest possibility of succeeding. "I am concerned about Captain Paris."

"Join the club, Tuvok," Tom sighed, his easy demeanour fading rapidly. Sitting forward, Commander Paris laced his fingers and rested them on the table. "We both know Kate has a habit of being all work and no play. If you can tell me a way to get her off the bridge or out of her ready room, I'll do it. Our Captain has been on duty the same length of time as the two of us with little more than coffee to sustain her and no intention of relinquishing control any time soon. Until my wife enters our quarters, there's not a lot I can do to change Kate's mind. I'm not crossing that line. Captain Paris made the distinction crystal clear."

"Understood," Tuvok acknowledged both the words and unspoken restrictions placed on the man who should be his commanding officer but was not by the Captain's dictate. Allowing an eyebrow to rise, it explained the current lack of pips of on Commander Paris's collar. It seemed the Captain wanted the crew to understand her relationship with her husband would, in no way, impair her decision-making ability or authority. "However, I would be remiss in my duty if I did not point out that the crew will not benefit from the leadership of an exhausted Captain."

"Tuvok," Tom shook his head while allowing a heavy sigh and half-hearted smile. He could see the stoic man logically counselling the Captain and imagine Kate's reaction. "Only you would be allowed to get away with telling my wife that. I know she relies on your guidance and has done for years. I suppose this means Kate's obsessing over getting this crew home?"

"You would be correct," Tuvok agreed, finally sliding into the seat beside Paris. If a Vulcan could sigh, the tactical officer came as close to an expression of regret as Vulcanly possible. "Guilt seems to be a constant companion in situations such as these."

"And is driving her decisions," Tom responded, his lips turning downward into a frown. He knew Kate and this behaviour was as natural to her as breathing to anyone else. "All right, Tuvok, I'll see if I can get her to take a break and eat something. You and I both know how determinedly single minded she can be so don't expect me to be successful, or survive the attempt with my marriage intact."

It didn't take long for Tom Paris to take the turbolift up one level. Ignoring the opening onto the bridge, the Commander used the back entrance to the Captain's ready room. Waiting for the chime to be answered seemed to take forever. When Kathryn called "come," in a distracted tone, Tom ignored protocol and brushed past the woman with a PADD in her hand.

Proceeding directly to her replicator, Kathryn watched in momentary astonishment, knowing she should rebuke Tom. Her husband hesitated only a moment before ordering a rich, savoury dish with the most calories non-humanly possible. Tom knew it was a compilation of her favourites because he'd personally programmed it into Voyager's memory banks. After collecting the plate of aromatic food, he added a cup of black coffee and placed the items on the table in the lounge area.

"I'm not leaving until that plate is clean," Tom stated, his body language stiff with arms across his chest and foot tapping, "and don't bother to tell me you had something earlier or you're not hungry. No matter what you excuse, I'm not going to believe it, Kate."

"I believe we've had this discussion, Commander," the Captain used her grey eyes to look through her junior officer in chastisement. The appearance was foiled as the smell hit her olfactory nerve and Kathryn's stomach growled menacingly. Throwing up her hands, she stated acidly, "I suppose Tuvok put you up to this."

"Newly promoted Lt. Commander Tuvok wouldn't be a good first officer if he didn't use every weapon in his arsenal to ensure the Captain's welfare," Tom grinned, watching as his wife picked up a fork and explore the concoction on her plate. "Don't blame this on Tuvok, Kate. You have a habit of ignoring yourself."

"Nicely done, Commander," Kathryn, not the Captain said, the first mouthful being suddenly masticated with groans of delight. "What I want to know," she managed, cutting a second portion and her grey eyes piercing her husband, "is how you managed to get all my favourites into this."

"I believe it was invented by one of your civilian consultants on _Billings_. Do you remember Dr Catherine Barson Eastis*," Tom grinned, happy to see his wife eating, and relaxing, for a few moments. "The bread part of the eggs benedict is actually welsh rarebit using a coffee stout batter. The strawberry and asparagus accompaniment, in Dr. Eastis's words, is an Anglo-Franco fusion with your heart-attack-on-warp-engines. It might just make up for the three meals you've missed since I came on board. I'm not even going to guess how long it has been since you've slept."

"I suppose next," she eyed him menacingly while scooping up yet another forkful of the ultimate brunch, "you're going to try and tuck me into bed for a few hours' sleep?"

"If I tuck you in, Kate," Tom crossed that line deliberately, yet stayed exactly where he stood, "you know sleep will be the last thing on either of our minds. No, Captain," his demeanour changed suddenly, "I suggest you just rest on that couch for a couple of hours and let your command team take over your load."

"You have a good crew. The work is proceeding as fast as possible and to Starfleet standard. Tuvok's taking a break now so we can once we're underway. By the time you've rested, the engines will be back on line and you can order your officer at the helm to get moving in the direction of that G-type star system. Maybe then," Tom could tell she knew what was coming next, "you can tuck me in."

"Get out of here, Commander," the Captain growled softly, almost a third of her meal finished. Before he stepped through the door, Kathryn added, "thank you, Tom."

Commander Paris did not look back. Stepping onto the bridge, Tom approached Tuvok's station. Waiving to Lt. Rollins to remain as he was, Tom left a message for the Vulcan, understanding they needed to form a closer bond in the coming days if they were to combat the Captain's ability to deny her personal needs. While it remained peaceful and command could be placed into the hands of a junior officer, between them they needed to divide Cavit's duties as well as preform those assigned them as Tactical and Conn officers. Beyond that, Tom wanted to see some of the responsibility removed from his wife's shoulders. A good Captain knew when to delegate. That Kate didn't, had always been her biggest failing.

"Lt. Rollins," Tom addressed the younger man standing uneasily before the Captain's chair. He expected to be relieved of duty by the senior officer. The space beside him stood empty. All hands were busy with repairs, leaving only a skeleton crew on the bridge. "I'm heading down to engineering to see what they have accomplished with the impulse and warp engines."

"Lt. Carey expects the impulse at full power in three hours, Sir," Rollins reported, understanding their Intelligence officer knew this already and expected to take the ship out himself before finally ending his shift.

On a ship the size of _Voyager_ , everyone had heard the current rumours. Commander Paris refused the First Officers position in favour of the Conn. After looking up his service record, at least as much as was available to the crew, they uncovered a ten-year marriage to their Captain and the fact the couple had served on the same ship, successfully, before. It went further in relieving their minds than placing Tuvok between them in the command structure.

Nodding at Rollins information, Tom still called for deck eleven when he stepped into the turbolift. He spent the next four hours wandering between departments and watching the status reports indicate when systems were back on line. Commander Paris redirected the data to his PADD from the Captain's ready room console. He knew it would earn his wife's ire when she uncovered his duplicity. It earnt him a comm from the Captain with an order to proceed directly to the bridge when she finally discovered his subterfuge. Tuvok had returned to his tactical station and merely watched the younger man move towards the helm, where he ejected the crewman just beginning his shift.

"Mr. Paris," the Captain moved toward the conn when Lt. Carey announced the Warp Engines were back on line. Without thinking, Kathryn placed a hand on Tom's shoulder and squeezed. "Set course to follow the energy pulses. Ensign Kaplan, send a message to Mr. Chakotay, informing the _Val Jean_ we are about to engage at warp six."

"Yes, Ma'am," the young woman offered.

Tom smirked, his fingers itching to move over the board before him. Only the forward screen saw his delight at once again piloting one of Starfleet's newest and most responsive ships into the unknown. Standing at his side, Kathryn observed her husband via his reflection and had to quash the impulse to shake her head at his boyish enthusiasm, especially after almost twenty-five hours on duty. Waiting for the operations officer to accomplish her job, Tom finally felt Kate give the signal.

"Warp six," he all but whispered as the fingers on his shoulder dug into his muscle. Louder, Tom announced to the rest of the bridge, " _Val Jean_ is flying parallel and holding course. Seven hours until we reach the systems outer rim and clear sailing between here and there."

"Long range sensors are detecting a debris field half a light year beyond the systems heliopause," Ensign Kaplan reported with a smile. Both the Captain and Commander Paris looked tired. Everyone understood one wouldn't rest until the other was off duty. "We will be in range for a detailed sensor sweep in five hours."

"Slow to half impulse when we reach it," the Captain ordered, turning and striding towards the turbolift, "and scan for any items that might be of use. Mr. Tuvok, you have the bridge. I'll be in my quarters if you need me."

"Aye, Captain," the Vulcan acknowledged while indicating a crewman should take his place. Before he could formulate a way to remove Commander Paris from his station, Tom signalled to the displaced pilot who should have been on duty to take the helm. Ten minutes later, he proceeded to the turbolift with a rather jaunty spring in his step. Tuvok's only response was a very slightly raised eyebrow. He would not disturb the Captain or Commander until it became necessary, which, logically meant approaching the debris field.

Their reunion proved quick and the resulting sleep unable to make up for a twenty-four-hour long shift. Before either Commander or Captain Paris could say they felt rested, the computer woke them. Back on the bridge, Ensign Kaplan reported one life sign within the debris field. A Delta quadrant native, a gentleman called Neelix, confirmed other ships had encountered the entity known as the Caretaker. Over the last three months, vessels from elsewhere had been taken from their home with loss of crew members and stranded in the Delta quadrant. He agreed to help retrieve their crew, for water.

"Mr. Paris," the Captain grinned, somewhat amused by the odd little man, "please make use of your skills and greet our guest in transporter room two."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom answered, however the look in his eye stated he was not at all pleased by this turn of events.

Neelix, who had not seen enough water to bath in for years, carried a particular odour from the moment he materialised. Once introduced to his quarters, the odd little Talaxian became quite talkative while eagerly investigating. Commander Paris recommended the bathroom as his first port of call. With only a few subtle questions while drawing the man a bath, Tom was able to establish that water was a scares resource in this part of the sector. Further, the Ocampa lived underground but the surface and the region controlled by a race known as the Kazon. Neither transporters nor replicators had been invented and the general level of technology was barely warp capable. Tom suspected they were several hundred years behind the Federation. Added to that, the Caretaker fiercely defended the Ocampan city from invasion with advanced methods.

"Mr. Paris," the Captain requested when Tom returned to her ready room and indicated Tuvok should join them for a de-brief. After hearing his report, Kathryn asked with a raised eyebrow, "what is your recommendation, Commander."

"These Kazon should be avoided at all cost," the Intelligence officer frowned, letting one hand curl under his chin and his eyes close as Tom considered all he'd learnt from the verbally incompetent Talaxian. "According to Neelix, several fractions appeared around thirty years ago after commandeering the technology and space fleet of another species called the Trabe. Within a short time frame they started fighting among themselves and threw this part of the sector into a constant battlefield over resources. They can't be trusted," suddenly the Intelligence operative's eyes opened and speared both the Captain and Tactical Officer. He was choosing his words very carefully. "Currently they do not have either replicator or transporter technology, but would destroy _Voyager_ or _Val Jean_ to get it, if it gave them tactical superiority over their counterparts."

"We cannot let that happen at any cost. So where does that leave us," Kathryn asked, concerned. "It seems we've been thrown into the middle of a civil warzone."

"Essentially," Tom frowned, attempting to put all the pieces of the puzzle together without a picture. "It's the Maquis I'd be worried about, if we can't get the Caretaker to send us home. There are crew on that vessel who don't consider the Prime Directive relevant."

"Are you inferring," Tuvok stated to ensure his understanding, "members of _Val Jean_ would sell or trade Alpha quadrant technology for safe passage."

"They'd offer it for just about any reason, Tuvok," Tom responded, recalling many minor incidents on _Val Jean_ that went against his personal ethics. Disappointment colouring his tone, "and maybe even behind Chakotay's back. I caught Seska contacting disreputable sources when she wanted information, some of them known to be sympathetic to the Cardassian cause. The Maquis have questionable ethics, although the Captain, Ayala and Torres seem to uphold Starfleet morality, most of the time."

"Then," Tuvok responded, "we will have to ensure the Maquis are unable to form new alliances in the quadrant. Perhaps including Mr. Chakotay in the rescue attempt will give us better insight to their current assessment of the situation."

"Agreed, Tuvok. However, that's only one of the issues we are experiencing. This Ocampan world is virtually a desert," the Captain threw up her hands. As they moved closer, Kathryn's scientific curiosity peeked and she had Ensign Kaplan aim the sensors toward their destination. "Not one ocean, not one river. It has all the basic characteristics of an M-class planet except there are no nucleogenic particles in the atmosphere. Life, civilization should be impossible on this world without rain, and yet there are two species inhabiting it. What could the Kazon and Ocampa possibly want?"

"If I understood Neelix correctly," Tom answered sourly, "the Ogla sect has claimed the Ocampan world for mineral deposits. They trade the ore for water and other supplies."

"But obviously not Mr. Neelix's debris," Tuvok's tone on anyone else would have been ironic. "The items in orbit are the remains of several vessels and satellites manufactured by various cultural styles and technologies over the last millennia. There is little of any use to _Voyager_ or _Val Jean_ as they are either incompatible or well below current Federation knowledge."

"Well," Captain Kathryn Paris stated, "let's make sure the Kazon never discover our advanced technology and the Maquis do the same. Mr. Paris, have the helm approach the Ocampan world as stealthily as possible. I want to get in, get our people and get out quickly and quietly."

*Recipe taken from The Gluttonous Geek's website. Thank you for the use of your amazing brunch.


	8. Traitors

**Part Eight: Traitors**

"You," Captain Kathryn Paris was more than angry, she was furious. Few on her ship would get in the way of the woman currently venting her rage at the odd little Delta quadrant native. The away teams venture down to the planet proved Neelix couldn't be trusted. He had used them, not to find the tunnels leading to the Ocampan underground city as promised, but to mount a rescue mission for his lover. The only consolation, they liberated a young Ocampan woman who managed to escape her subterranean prison. "You almost cost the lives of three crew and Kes. What were you thinking, walking us into a trap!"

"If you had told us what you were going to do," Tom couldn't contain his own anger, especially as his wife had almost been injured in the altercation with the Kazon, "I might have been ready when Maj Jabbin fired his weapon at the Captain, Chakotay and Ayala. You're lucky I was close enough to extract my hidden knife and save the situation from deteriorating further."

"A crude but effective weapon, even if the overall plan was not," Tuvok allowed, indicating his security team should take up point outside sick bay. Neither Neelix, Kes or the Maquis were free to wander the halls of _Voyager_.

"I warned you," Kathryn sent a quelling look at her husband and tactical officer, who once again seemed to be working to a single purpose. While Tom didn't look abashed, he did stand down with his arms crossed beside his wife. "Our technology is not for barter or trade in this quadrant, Mr. Neelix. You were not authorised to inform the Kazon about our transporter. It breaks our Prime Directive."

"Don't be angry at Neelix," the rather delicate looking young woman demanded in a soft voice. The EMH had healed her various cuts and bruises inflicted by the Kazon during Kes's incarceration. "I never should have gone to the surface. I'm too curious. I'm told it's my worst failing."

"While that may be the case," the Captain continued to scrutinise the Talaxian forcing him to remain quiet, "when I give an order, Mr. Neelix, I expect it to be obeyed." Suddenly losing her ire, Kathryn sighed heavily and turned to face the young Ocampan woman. The Captain had to wonder if the scars went further than physical beatings, but that discussion would have to wait until they were alone. The echoes of her own treatment while in Cardassian hands were unmercifully quashed behind a mental concrete wall. "We might still salvage something, if you would be willing to take us underground to look for our missing crew."

Beside her, Chakotay watched with impassive eyes. Captain Paris invited the Maquis to accompany the away team after explaining the situation and what might be expected on the planet surface. Both he and Ayala beamed over to _Voyager_ prepared for the arid environment and hours searching for hidden entrances into the Ocampa's underground sanctuary. Above them, both crews searched for an easier entry point. Understanding the tactical advantage of observation, Chakotay immediately agreed to the very solid plan, which he knew came from Commander Paris. It would give him time to analyse his enemy. Besides, Starfleet had better sensor arrays and were well equipped to mount the mission to rescue Torres and Kim. Leaving Hogan in charge of the bridge and Seska attempting to fill in for Torres, he hoped they had the small raider ready to run once they'd recovered their engineer. _Val Jean's_ Captain knew neither had the training or self-discipline for the promotions, but his options were running low with the loss of Torres and the man he'd known as Nick Locarno.

 _And now_ , he fumed quietly, _I haven't got Torres back. I'm standing in sickbay, on a Starfleet vessel that could transport my entire crew into the brig if Seska and Hogan don't react quickly enough and what are we discussing? Yet another attempt to get our people back with an enemy that has already betrayed us once, twice if you count Paris. Added to that, we've managed to alert the local Kazon faction to our presence and advanced technology. How long before they return with reinforcements. Even with our shield and weapons, they might just win by sheer weight of numbers._

"This time," Paris hissed into the Captain's ear while Neelix and Kes argued about helping find Kim and Torres, "you will not be making up one of the away team."

Pretending ignorance of the whispered conversation, Chakotay's attention was brought back to the present. He sent a look in Ayala's direction, indicating he would study the Paris's while Mike should gather as much information on the Vulcan tactical officer and the Delta quadrant natives. Paris and Paris seemed to form the command team and understanding them might be of advantage in the future.

"Are you pulling rank on me, Commander," Kathryn hissed, quietly enough for only the man at her side to hear. In this scenario, Tom's background gave him the ability to choose the members and purpose of any away missions due to his Intelligence training. Further, Starfleet regulations would support his assessment above the Captain's if she attempted to overrule him and lead the team herself.

"I'm reminding you of procedure," Tom fired back sarcastically, "Captain. I'll take Andrews and Kes along with Chakotay and Ayala. _Voyager_ can survive without me if the Ocampa prove as _**friendly**_ as the Kazon. My team can try and beam in using the micro fractures in the shield Kaplan uncovered. Just make sure you have the Transporter chief keep a lock on us."

While the Captain wanted to accompany the team, Tom's suggestion was more in line with protocol, and made sense in this uncharted and hostile region of space. In such a situation, with many of her senior officers killed in action, it was the Captain's responsibility to remain with the ship and maintain a command team. Like it or not, Kathryn Paris felt constrained by the very organisation she'd vowed to serve and the feeling chaffed.

Unable to stand around doing nothing any longer, Captain Paris cleared her throat, halting the conversation and drawing all eyes toward her. They needed to get past this petty bickering. "Are you willing to help us, Kes," Kathryn stepped beside the biobed and asked in a gentle tone. Her eye's never leaving the younger woman. They held a slight pleading, indicating how important it was to locate and rescue Torres and Kim.

"Kes can tell you where to go," Neelix stated belligerently, "but now that she's free, we're leaving this system together."

"Neelix," Kes's soft voice rebuked, her empathic abilities overwhelmed by the various emotions swirling around the room. "These people rescued me. It would be wrong not to help them now. Captain," she looked into Kathryn's eyes, "the tunnels I used would have been sealed to prevent the Kazon entering the city."

"We might have a way to transport you directly into the cavern," Captain Paris smiled. "I'll explain once we have a plan. Rest until Commander Paris returns to get you."

"Captain on the bridge," a crewman announced when the turbolift deposited the senior crew, two Maquis and their security escort to level one.

"As you were," Kathryn waved to Lt. Rollins easily, even allowing a smile to grace her lips. "I'll be in my ready room and not to be disturbed. Ensign Kaplan, I want plan B ready as soon as you have the calculations completed. Send the data to my workstation."

Without thinking, Captain Paris approached her desk and sat heavily into the seat. Rolling up the sleeve of her jacket and turtle neck revealed a burn on her right forearm that both hurt and itched. Everyone in the room heard Commander Paris's indrawn breath. Before Kathryn began speaking, her husband had picked the dermal regenerator out of her top draw and started waving the instrument.

"Done that before," Chakotay mocked, watching the fluid grace between the pair. He wondered how long they'd been married and if they'd served on the same ship during their careers. With an obvious age gap, it was no wonder they had chosen different Starfleet streams. Tactically, it was the only way to work together.

"Once or twice," Tom responded before his wife could get a word in. "I don't remember you complaining the last time Gul Evek of the Cardassian Fourth Order left casualties on _Val Jean_ and you expected me to clean up his mess."

"Enough," Kathryn pushed Tom away, even though her injury could use another few seconds to heal completely. Pulling down her sleeve, she'd finish the treatment herself after they'd left. "I expect you to treat a member of my crew with respect, Mr. Chakotay. Mr. Paris, if I hear you being insubordinate to another ship's Captain again, those regulations you are so fond of will be enacted. Do I make myself understood gentlemen?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom barked, standing to attention, regenerator still in hand.

"Aye, Captain," Chakotay said at the same time, annoyed with himself for falling back into ingrained Starfleet behaviour by simply hearing the Captain's tone.

"Good. Now, shall we make another attempt to get our people off that planet?" the Captain demanded, quirking her eyebrow. Receiving a nod from each man, Kathryn checked her terminal. Ensign Kaplan had been very thorough, indicating the time between energy pulses had decreased further and the transporters remodulated allowing an away team to beam directly into the underground city.

Sharing the information, Tuvok insisted, "I believe time is of the essence, Captain. It would seem the Caretaker may attempt to seal any approach to the Ocampan cavern in the near future. I will have operations monitor the Array for any changes."

"Agreed," Kathryn acknowledged. "I want Mr. Neelix to remain on _Voyager_ while Commander Paris leads this rescue attempt. Once we have Kim and Torres in sickbay, our doctor will look them over. I suggest we return to the array at that time, Mr. Chakotay and determine if the entity can be forced to return us to the Alpha quadrant."

"Agreed," Chakotay offered easily, his dark gaze raking over Paris. He didn't like the idea of the traitor leading the mission, yet as Nick Locarno, the man had proven extremely efficient and inventive in a tough situation. Only now did Chakotay appreciate Tom Paris's intelligence training.

The rescue mission didn't quite go as expected. The remainder of the Kazon-Ogla, warned that a ship more advanced than their own was in the sector, began to converge on _Voyager's_ position. Maj Jabbin, hadn't been prepared for two enemy vessels orbiting the Ocampan World. Unwilling to allow intruders into his space, he lost both small raiders in the initial skirmish but barely caused minor damage to the Alpha quadrant vessels.

In the Ocampan metropolis, Kes uncovered that Ensign Kim and B'Elanna Torres were being kept at the central medical facility. Locating the pair turned into an adventure. It seemed Torres and Kim were attempting to find their own way to the surface. They hadn't been seen for several hours. Loath to split the away team into smaller units, Tom insisted they stay together.

"Paris to Voyager," he called, waiting for the operations officer to acknowledge his com. Something had changed as the subterranean buildings shook violently around them. The Ocampa didn't panic, yet a sense of chaos surrounded them.

"Commander, the array's energy pulses have been weaponised," Kaplan reported in an urgent tone. "The entity is attempting to seal the energy conduits on the surface."

"Tom, you need to get out of there while we still have a transporter lock on you. The resulting ionisation has irradiated the planet's crust and will interfere with our sensors," the Captain stated tersely. It seemed she was under duress, yet Tom knew something else had to be occurring for Kate to pull the away team before completing their mission.

"Negative, Captain," Tom stated, making intuitive decisions he would never be able to defend later. "We haven't found Kim or Torres. Four to bean back. I'll contact you for another option once I find our crew. In the meantime, keep working on a solution. Paris out."

Before Chakotay could protest, the others in his party shimmered into non-existence. Able to move more quickly without an entourage, Tom set to work. Asking after B'Elanna seemed to elicit more of a response from these people than describing Ensign Kim. They remembered the angry Klingon. It took another half an hour to locate the pair who had made it to the city's outskirts and were currently resting.

"Paris to _Voyager_ ," Tom tapped his badge on sighting the exhausted looking pair. Before waiting for an answer, he made the cheeky suggestion, "I hope you have escape plan C operational, Captain. Three to beam up at your convenience."

"We're a little busy at the moment," Kathryn's voice sounded strained. In the background, Tom heard the screaming of tortured bulkheads and the sound of klaxons blaring battle stations. "I'm unable to drop the shields until we've finished off these Kazon raiders. Hold on, Tom, we'll get you out of there as soon as we can. Paris out."

"Ah," Harry Kim looked up at the man in Starfleet red without any insignia on his collar. "Did you say your name was Paris, Tom Paris?"

"Paris," Torres mocked at the same time, turning her shocked expression towards Kim as his words finally registered. "When did you become Paris, Nick? And why are you wearing that uniform? Who was that woman calling you Tom anyway?"

"It's a long story, B'Elanna, with an answer you're not going to like," Tom warned. "I suggest we leave it until we get you back to _Val Jean_. Chakotay's going to need your expertise on the bridge. His ship is barely holding together and that was before being attacked."

"Sounds like we have time now," she pushed herself from sitting on the ground and entered Nick's personal space. The pustules on her neck and arms obvious at such close quarters caused Tom to swallow his revulsion. The grimace covering B'Elanna's features meant they were extremely painful if a Klingon acknowledged their existence. "You might be Chakotay's lacky, but I make up my own mind. So far I'm not liking what I'm hearing or seeing." Placing the flat of her hand against Nick's chest, she pushed, hard. Even in her weakened state, the Klingon still had enough strength to force Tom to take a step backwards.

"Don't look at me," Harry Kim held up his hands in a gesture of surrender when Torres's quarry refused to utter a word and she demanded an answer from the Ensign. "I've never seen him before. I can tell you, this man didn't get here on _Voyager_."

"No, he got here with the Maquis," B'Elanna growled, not liking the ideas forming in her mind. "So, what's your real name, Tom Paris or Nick Locarno, and why in Kahless's name are you wearing that uniform?"

"My name is Commander Thomas Paris," Tom sighed. _Better to get the physical punishment out of her system while she's unwell and not within sight of Voyager's crew._ "Starfleet Intelligence. I was sent to infiltrate the Maquis and gather evidence of Cardassian infractions in the DMZ. Right now, you need to be more concerned about Chakotay and the _Val Jean_. They are in orbit and currently under attack by a species called Kazon. After our doctor treats you, I'll personally ensure you get back to your ship B'Elanna."

"So, you are related to the Captain," Kim suddenly piped up innocently. It seemed Kim and Torres had developed some kind of a bond because B'Elanna rolled her eyes. "What," he answered the half Klingon's unasked question with a shrug of his shoulders, " _Voyager's_ Captain is Kathryn Paris. Her father's Admiral Paris."

"Actually," Tom smiled, realising there was no point in hiding the facts, especially as _Voyager's_ crew had scanned the data base and both he and Kate wore old-fashioned wedding rings, "my wife's father, Admiral Janeway passed away more than a decade ago. Admiral Owen Paris is her father-in-law."

A string of Klingon expletives erupted, causing Harry to blush when the universal translator managed to turn one in six into standard. Tom had been expecting something more violent on discovery that he'd not only infiltrated the Maquis and was related to Starfleet brass, but deceived B'Elanna on a personal level. He wasn't disappointed when Torres suddenly stopped her triad and pulled back her fist. He let the enraged woman take one shot.

"I hope that makes you feel better, Torres," Tom warned in his very best commander's tone, "because if you ever try it again, be prepared for the consequences. Starfleet doesn't look kindly on their officers being assaulted and I know how much you'd love spending solitary time in _Voyager's_ brig."

If her glare could have, it turned even more glacial. Yet she had enough sense, and probably training, to control her temper. Young Ensign Kim's worried expression helped calm the angry Klingon. It seemed incarceration together formed a bond between the pair. "What are you looking at, Starfleet," B'Elanna hissed.

"Nothing," Ensign Kim swallowed, his eyes darting between the pair before him.

"I gather you were looking for a way out of here," Tom took command, ignoring the altercation in favour of assessing his surrounding, "before I fell over the pair of you. Let's continue, in case _Voyager_ or _Val Jean_ can't get us out of here. We've had one run in with the Kazon. I'd like to avoid any further disputes."

"Yes, Sir," Harry immediately stood to attention. Even if Tom Paris didn't have three pips on his collar, he had the demeanour of a long serving officer and was the Captain's husband. There was no way Ensign Kim would cross the well-connected man.

"You're not really just going to roll over, Starfleet," B'Elanna looked astonished.

" _Voyager_ to Paris," Tom's comm chirped, saving Harry from responding. He'd never been happier to hear is wife's voice. She didn't wait for his acknowledgement. "We'll drop our shield in five seconds, as soon as this Kazon turns for another pass. Stand by for transport. I'm afraid I'll need you at the Conn, Commander. It seems we've upset the natives and I need your advanced piloting skills to get us back to the array before the Kazon."

"Understood, Captain," Tom said. "Ensign Kim and Ms. Torres should be beamed directly to sick bay. Paris out."

Before he finished the last word, the three individuals found themselves caught up in the pull of the transporter beam. The moment Tom felt the deck beneath his feet and noted the bridge consoles surrounding him, Commander Paris strode to the helm. Crewman Grimes didn't hesitate, vacating the seat without handing over. He didn't need to. Commander Paris's innate ability obvious, he'd analysed the data displayed on the viewscreen and at his station almost instantaneously.

"Where are the Maquis hiding?" Tom demanded of the tactical station. He knew the tricks used by Chakotay when outwitting the Cardassian's.

"They have not yet entered the battle," Tuvok responded. To which Commander Paris let out a string of cursing in several languages.

"My thought's exactly," Kathryn stated, yet the tone of her words spelt trouble for the crew of the raider if she ever got her hands on them. "Any ideas on how to entice them, Tom."

"Several," he growled low in his throat, "but only one that will work. Operations, open a channel to _Val Jean_ , we need to work together to shake these raiders," Tom ordered. "I count four coming around in a scattered pattern."

Behind him, Kathryn indicated Kaplan should make it so. "Evasive manoeuvre Beta two. Concentrate fire on the port side. Let's see if we can even the odds a little."

"Chakotay," Tom growled, knowing the man was listening, "if you don't want your engineer back, that's fine by me. I have grounds to stick her in the brig for assaulting a Starfleet Officer and a witness to her crime. And that's where she'll stay until we get back to have her tried for treason."

"Beam Torres over now," the enraged man demanded.

"Sorry," Kathryn didn't sound at all contrite, "can't drop shields at the moment. Maybe if you help us out, I might be able to arrange it once we reached the Array."

"Changing to attack pattern Delta four," Tom called from the helm.

"I'll take the port," Chakotay's voice infused over the speakers but he didn't sound happy. He knew the Starfleet playbook. Heck, he'd invented some of the tactics. Taking up position, they raked all four of the Kazon Vessels mounting this renewed attack, leaving two without propulsion, one minus an operational weapons array and the final ship in a million tiny shards.

"Setting a course for the array," Tom offered.

"Warp seven, Mr. Paris. Mr. Chakotay," Kathryn stood, hanging onto the rail between herself and the con, "try to keep up. We will beam your engineer back once our doctor has cleared her for duty."

"Understood, Chakotay out." The channel closed, leaving both ships racing back to the Caretaker's array in the hope the Kazon hadn't sent reinforcements ahead of them.

It seemed life in the Delta quadrant would not prove that easy. "My ready room, Mr. Paris, Mr. Tuvok. Mr. Rollins, you have the bridge."


	9. Maquis

**Part Nine: Maquis.**

 **AN:** I've decided to add a little counterpoint to this story. In this chapter we get the Maquis perspective on the events so far. Perhaps not everything is as rosy on _Val Jean_ as in Cannon, especially with a Starfleet Intelligence operative aboard for six months. But then, is anything ever blissful within a guerrilla terrorist organisation?

* * *

Once again to the Guest, I have friends in both the army and navy. They are 1) a great source of information when writing and 2) many have families even though they put to sea for months at a time, women included. As to getting rid of Seska, while it would be nice, as a plot arc, it is just not possible, or is it? I guess you'll have to read on to find out.

* * *

"Hogan," Seska all but screamed over the comm. Internally she wondered why Chakotay hadn't left her in charge on the bridge, after all, she had been sleeping with the man and expected some compensation for the onerous task. These humanoids were weak by Cardassian standards, letting emotion and protocol get in the way of what they really wanted. It seemed warming his bed wasn't enough to give her control when the only personnel on _Val Jean_ didn't have any Starfleet training. "What's going on up there? I sent Suder to reroute the EPS conduits at least fifteen minutes ago. Chakotay want's this ship ready the moment he gets back from the array with Torres."

There was little loved lost between Hogan and Seska. Both usually worked with Torres in Engineering and only her dominate influence, that being her fists, kept the peace between them. The difference due, in Hogan's opinion, to the fact he'd earned his place where as Seska used her feminine whiles to get what she wanted. There was just something off about the woman and he wondered why Chakotay didn't see it when the rest of the male crew did. Hogan knew Locarno, a reputed playboy tormented the Bajoran woman whenever the Captain wasn't around and Seska wasn't fond of Nick either.

"Lon's under the engineering console," Hogan responded, annoyance colouring his tone. "Considering the mess up here, you lucky he can find the conduits to work on. That displacement wave did a lot of damage."

"I should be done in ten minutes," Suder said, is tone typically even for a Betazoid. A loner by nature, he didn't like arguments.

"Get back down here," Seska made her displeasure known, "when you've finished. _Voyager_ still has a tractor bean on us. I want to see if we can find a way to disrupt it by the time Chakotay returns."

Hogan cut communications to Engineering as both he and Suder snorted. "Who does she think she is," Hogan snickered, "Torres? The last time she attempted something like that, she blew out half the ships relays and left us dead in space. If Torres and Locarno hadn't come up with patching in energy from life support to restart the impulse engines, we would all have been sitting in a Cardie prison camp."

"What do you think happened to B'Elanna?" Suder asked, suddenly intrigued.

Shrugging, Hogan responded, "Locarno wondered if it had to do with her being our engineer, or the only Klingon. When that Starfleet Captain said they'd lost an Ensign, Nick changed his mind. He and Chakotay said an Ensign wasn't important enough on a starship and couldn't be worth any tactical advantage. I guess we'll find out when they get back with Ayala."

Shimmering into existence on the transporter pad, Hogan and Seska watched as Chakotay and Ayala appeared. They'd been gone a little over half an hour. Returning so soon spelt trouble for an already understaffed ship and both knew it. Without the two officers Chakotay relied on to keep his ship running smoothly and the ten dead in the displacement wave, they were running on near empty.

"What happened to Locarno and Torres?" Seska demanded. Recently both had become a thorn in her side. The blue-eyed blond treated her without respect and their resident Klingon wanted Chakotay for herself, even if she was pretending to fawn over Locarno to make him jealous. With both gone, it was her chance to ingratiate herself in the command structure. Knocking off Ayala wouldn't be too hard which might give her a clear chance at commanding this shockingly out dated vessel.

"Starfleet thinks Torres has been taken by the entity in the array because she passed some kind of biometric testing. She's been transported to the same planet as the energy pulses," Ayala stated easily, watching Chakotay apprehensively. "Locarno…"

"Starfleet can have that traitor," the Captain spat, obviously not wanting to talk about the man. While it peaked Seska's interest, she'd leave questioning him for a more intimate moment. "Ayala, I want you to take over his duties. Seska, how are those engines coming."

"Slowly," she growled, attempting to distract him with her suggestive body language. For once it didn't seem to work. "I'm not Torres."

"Don't we know it," Ayala muttered under his breath. In the week between Gul Evek's attack and getting stranded in the Delta quadrant, Nick had been more vocal about the Bajoran woman's lack of ethics and compassion. It had made many, Mike included, start to see Seska in a new light. Even with his recent revelations, Tom Paris's training might just have pinned the woman's character correctly.

"Enough," Chakotay ordered, his tone hardening as he glared at his subordinates. "Hogan, get back to engineering and see what you can do. I need weapons, shields and propulsion ready by the time _Voyager_ moves out. Captain Paris should have deactivated the tractor beam. They estimate their repairs will take twenty-four hours to complete. Then we're heading for the planet to rescue Torres."

"We're not really going to join them," Seska sounded furious.

"If you come up with a better way to get Torres back," Chakotay's voice became deathly quiet and menacing, "make the sensor array a fully functional and return us to the Badlands without the help of that ship, I'm happy to hear it." Silence greeted him. "Then I suggest you stop standing here and get on with it."

Waiting until the other's left, Seska fired her parting shot in an acidic voice, "you're becoming soft, Chakotay."

"Maybe," he returned, the look narrowing on her, "I'm finally seeing clearly."

Unable to account for this sudden change in his character, Seska knew when to leave well enough alone. Retreating to engineering, she'd try to get Ayala talking. She was missing something and her training wouldn't let her rest until she knew what it was. "Nick Locarno," Seska whispered under her breath, understanding intuitively he was at the centre of this mystery. In her estimation, there was only one reason Chakotay would call him a traitor and Locarno would choose to remain on the Starfleet vessel. "He's the operative I've been looking for."

Enraged and feeling betrayed, _Val Jean's_ Captain knew Ayala wouldn't spread a word of Nick Locarno's true identity until given the signal. Twenty-four years in Starfleet and Chakotay could have kicked himself at not recognising Admiral Owen Paris's son. While the organisation employed more than thirty million people, over a thousand of which were Admirals, across tens of thousands of ships and bases, he'd met Owen Paris and the resemblance to his son was uncanny. Tom hadn't disguised himself in any way, or his age but he had traded on his boyish good looks and playful character. Hindsight proved the man to be much more than a Starfleet washout, even if both Locarno and Paris were excellent pilots. Chakotay just hadn't seen it, or hadn't wanted to see the truth when he was in desperate need of someone with Tom Paris's skills.

His anger sustained Chakotay through the next day as he fought to ignore many of the tactics and changes Loc…Paris rought on _Val Jean_ during his six-month tenure. Changes that improved the efficiency of his ship and crew. Between Seska and Hogan they managed to patch the old girl's engines and made some headway on repairing the other systems.

Approaching to the G type system, Captain Paris sent a report containing their intelligence from a Delta quadrant native, one Talaxian named Mr. Neelix. It seemed the junk trader found in a debris field beyond the Ocampan heliopause had some relevant data to impart on the entity known as the Caretaker, the Ocampan home world and the socio-political environment in this sector. He'd even agreed to help them locate Torres and Kim and given the Alpha quadrant natives valuable intelligence.

"Ayala," Chakotay sat alone on the bridge after digesting the plan, "get up here."

"Something you need to talk about," the man asked quietly as he slipped into the chair beside his Captain. Without a word, Chakotay threw him a PADD. Several minutes and a low whistle later, Ayala questioned, "how much has been left out of this intel?"

"You'll need to ask Paris," Chakotay spat. Watching his now first officer's reaction, he added, "Captain or Commander, I don't think it matters. I don't trust either of them. She's Starfleet through and through, he's too good at his job to reveal everything."

"You really shouldn't have riled Captain Paris up like that," Ayala rebuked with a careless shrug of his shoulders, "after all the man we knew as Nick Locarno is her husband. Besides," watching his bosses' reaction from the corner of his eye, Mike decided to give his opinion, "you agreed to work with _Voyager_ until Torres was back on board and we were in the Alpha quadrant. Even amongst the Maquis, _**your**_ word means something."

"Just make sure this ship is ready," Chakotay growled menacingly, "to break orbit and get back to that array once B'Elanna's in the engine room. I don't want any trouble with our weapons and shields barely holding together. Torres will have them sorted out by the time we reach the Caretaker. I plan on being back in the Badlands long before Captain Paris and her ship are anywhere near that array."

"Suder's working on the shields now," Ayala stated. "If anyone can repair the weapons array, it's Seska. I guess that means you're going to have to leave Hogan in charge of the bridge again when we beam over to _Voyager_?"

"Yes," Chakotay didn't look impressed. "Locarno might have been a pain in the backside, but he knew what I was thinking before I opened my mouth. I'm just not sure we can trust him, especially if he's de-briefed his wife and that Vulcan tactical officer on our crew and methods. You and I are going to have to watch every step on _Voyager_ and while we're on the Ocampan planet. I don't want to give anything away."

"Play it by the Fleet book, you mean," Ayala grinned ominously. He'd graduated three years ago, just when the Maquis movement started. Instead of taking up his assignment as an Ensign, Mike had been disillusioned by the Federations reaction to Cardassian atrocities on his wife's home world. He didn't want to think about Marla and his two sons, only getting home to them when they retrieved Torres.

"With a little Maquis twist," Chakotay added, "but only when Paris isn't looking. I don't want that man suspecting a thing. And Mike," in an odd moment of intuition, the Captain added, "we don't want to create another Cardassia Prime in this quadrant. Lock down our technology when we leave. If the Kazon get hold of _Val Jean_ for any reason…"

Nodding, Mike Ayala understood. The Prime Directive had been drilled into the two Maquis while in Starfleet. The people in this sector of space didn't need the same atrocities occurring as those in the DMZ experienced at the hands of a malevolent enemy. There was a similarity of purpose between these Kazon and the Cardassian's if Tom Paris's information proved correct. If there was one thing both Chakotay and Ayala understood, it was just how good Intelligence Commander Paris had been at ferreting out information while on _Val Jean_.

The mission to the surface of the Ocampan world proved interesting, but not as intriguing as the scene in _Voyager's_ sick bay. Chakotay felt the undercurrent of tension in the Paris marriage and, under the circumstances he completely understood it. It seemed serving on the same ship was going to cause some issues. Yet the pair worked together remarkably well within the command structure. The Captain had disparaged both Paris's and his behaviour, just as he would have done if two subordinates bickered in his ready room. Kathryn Paris might prove to be a tenacious, intelligent woman who stuck to her Starfleet principles. The thought pleased Chakotay, because he could work with that.

Tom Paris proved to be another matter entirely. When the going got tough, the man sent his away team back to their vessels and continued his mission alone. It was little more than Chakotay expected, he suddenly realised. Nick Locarno had been the same, ensuring the safety of _Val Jean's_ crew before his own. Yet the man always seemed to fall on his feet.

"Why didn't you tell us," Seska demanded, walking alongside the Captain when he beamed back without Torres, "that Locarno, or whatever his name is, was a traitor?"

She'd bided her time, allowing Chakotay to stew over the loss of his trusted first officer. If the anger on his face were any indication, he understood Locarno was a Starfleet intelligence plant. Something more than failing to recoup Torres had happened on while on _Voyager_. Seska managed to worm her way onto the bridge when Chakotay hailed Hogan and informed him of the foiled first attempt. That was when she realised the Kazon might be of help if they knew the exact location of the Federation vessel.

"I could ask why you let _Voyager_ take on two Kazon raiders alone?" Chakotay retorted the moment he returned to the bridge of his ship. His dark eyes raked over both Seska and Hogan, demanding answers.

"Because the weapons and shields are barely holding together," she answered testily. "One well aimed blow and we're history. Without Torres, the repairs have been slow. She's jury rigged so many systems on this old bucket, few of us know how to patch it up. I didn't think you'd want to put your crew in danger."

Acknowledging the comment with a nod, Chakotay almost found it within himself to laugh. _How many times have we been in a similar situation, with a Cardassian Battle Cruiser breathing in our warp trail and still come out the other side?_ He cursed silently _. Seska didn't complain then, so what's changed now. Voyager is a Federations ship, the only other one in this quadrant and the closest thing we have to a friend within seventy thousand light years. What's her point?_

Unwilling to consider the ramifications, Chakotay concentrated on the remains of the battle before him. Two heavily damaged scout ship buzzed around _Voyager_ , inflicting minimal damage. To his trained eye, they were assessing the larger vessel's capabilities. Captain Paris gave nothing away, besides the occasional well aimed phaser blast. She allowed the small ships to limp away without changing her orbit or contacting _Val Jean_.

Curious, Chakotay continued to monitor the situation. Energy pulses from the array rained down on the Ocampan world, irradiating the surface and any possible resources the planet might have held. Wondering if Torres, Paris and Kim would be forever trapped in the subterranean world, he knew they couldn't remain in the system very long. The window of opportunity for the Caretaker to send them home was rapidly closing, as were Kazon reinforcements.

Just why the Kazon's sensors didn't detect _Val Jean_ , Chakotay didn't know. The four raider class vessels came out of nowhere. Larger than the scouts, and better armoured, their weapons managed to dent _Voyager's_ shields on their first pass. It looked as though the larger ship was readying for evasive pattern Beta two when Chakotay considered joining the fight.

"Chakotay," Tom's voice suddenly erupted through the comm, "if you don't want your engineer back, that's fine by me. I have grounds to stick her in the brig for assaulting a Starfleet Officer and a witness to her crime. And that's where she'll stay until we get back to have her tried for treason."

"Beam Torres over now," all of the rage Chakotay had been holding in exploded and it was aimed at Commander Tom Paris.

"Sorry," the softer but gravelly voice of Voyager's Captain issued from the speaker, "can't drop shields at the moment. Maybe if you help us out, I might be able to arrange it once we reached the Array."

"Changing to attack pattern Delta four," came the order from the helm.

"I'll take the port," Chakotay knew the Starfleet playbook and how to play this manoeuvre. It took one pass to halt the attack. The comm line still open, Captain Paris set course for the array at warp seven and goaded him into following.

Hoping the Kazon hadn't sent reinforcements ahead of them, Chakotay had to be content with a minor victory. It seemed he'd get Torres back, in one piece and checked over by a Starfleet doctor. From the shiner on Commander Paris's rapidly swelling eye, it looked like his Engineer had gotten in a good one when she uncovered his duplicity. Although the minute B'Elanna stepped foot on _Val Jean_ , she'd be happy to tell everyone about the traitorous Nick Locarno.

 _If something happens_ , Chakotay theorised silently, _and the Caretaker either can't or won't send us home, if the Kazon get to the array first and destroy it, or if there's a battle and my ship is destroyed, life in the Delta quadrant won't be easy, especially if we end up on Voyager._


	10. Stuck

**Part Ten: Stuck**.

 **AN:** this might be the last chapter for a while. My father passed way last week. We need to sell a huge house and move into something smaller. This has to be my focus for the next few weeks. Added to that, my mother passed earlier this year and my eleven-year-old had become very anxious with all the changes. Please enjoy and I'll try to get back to writing as soon as possible.

"Bring the weapons systems online," the Captain barked, standing in the middle of her bridge. "Red alert. All hands to battle stations."

Long range systems detected two Kazon ships hanging in the space before the array. Unwilling to subject her crew to further hostilities, Kathryn wanted to go into this skirmish armed and ready. It seemed Jabin had split his forces, sending a forward party to secure the advantage. Added to the situation, Captain Paris didn't know if she could count on the Maquis to stand beside them in a fire fight. So far only the threat of withholding their Engineer seemed to motivate Chakotay to join them. That was about to change as B'Elanna Torres transported back to _Val Jean_ the moment they dropped out of warp.

Aware of changes in the Caretaker's behaviour over the last few months, Maj Jabin wanted to secure the station for himself. He knew these newcomers possessed the technology and means to meet with the Caretaker on the array, something the Ogla had been attempting for years without success. Each time they came within a thousand kilometres of the entities home, it destroyed their ships and repulsed their attempts. Even incursion underground on the Ocampan world brought a swift and uncompromising reaction.

Yet if the Talaxian was to be believed, these aliens had boarded the station and spoken with the Caretaker in person. They intended to return, forcing the entity to send them thousands of light years home. It proved the Caretaker was losing his authority and dominance in this sector. Coupled with the changes in the energy pulses, Jabin had every intention of winning this battle and securing the array, and its advanced technology for himself.

"The lead ship is hailing us, Captain," Tuvok reported stoically.

At the operations station, Ensign Kim brought the image of Maj Jabin up at his Captain's request.

"Leave," the Maj demanded before Kathryn could utter a word. "You have entered Kazon-Ogla space."

"All we care about is getting home, Jabin," the Captain lost any patience with the man's useless posturing. Although out-numbered, presently _Voyager_ and _Val Jean_ weren't our gunned, or in any danger. "We're about to transport over to the Array…"

"I cannot permit that," Jabin sneered. "You have challenged my authority, and I have no intention of letting anyone with your technological knowledge board the Array. It is in Ogla space and belongs to the Ogla."

"They're powering up their weapons," Tuvok announced a moment before the first of the Kazon blast hit _Voyager_ and the ship rocked. "I have a link with Mr. Chakotay."

"Return fire," the Captain retreated to her chair. "Evasive pattern, Alpha three. Aim for their weapons and propulsion. I want you to remain at the helm, Mr. Paris, and you have the bridge. I'm going to take Tuvok and beam over to the array. The sooner we find a way back to the Alpha quadrant, the happier everyone will be." 

In the battle that raged while _Voyager's_ Captain and acting First Officer were on the array, _Val Jean_ was badly damaged. Understanding the smaller of the two vessels to be the weakest link, in armament, weapons and skill of the pilot, Jabin ordered his ships to concentrate their fire in that quarter. Although manoeuvrable for a ship of her size, _Voyager_ could not match the Kazon's agility due to their smaller size. Nor could they protect the Maquis raider from a two-pronged attack with a larger class warship bearing down on them.

Understanding neither of them would make it back to the Alpha quadrant if they were both destroyed, Chakotay swore under his breath before suggesting to Paris, "neither of us has enough firepower to stop that new ship. My engines are damaged beyond even B'Elanna's ability to repair them. I'm setting a collision course, but the guidance system is disabled. I'll have to pilot the ship manually. Torres is getting the crew ready to beam to _Voyager_."

"I'll have the shields dropped on Torres's mark," Tom agreed, his hands not stopping while one of the Kazon raiders turned their attention towards his ship. He didn't need to tell Rollins at tactical to direct _Val Jean's_ crew into a secure area under heavy guard. The compliment of _Voyager_ might be inexperienced but they were not reckless. Everyone understood the loss of the Maquis vessel meant trouble and few would forgive them for hiding during the first Kazon attack. "The transporter chief is keeping a lock on you, Chakotay."

Added to his issues, the Captain comm'ed, requiring more time on the array to achieve her mission. Swearing under this breath, Tom did the best he could to keep _Voyager's_ weapons and shields operational as the main Kazon Vessel concentrated its fire on the phaser array. Chakotay finally took out the largest of the three vessels but the resulting trajectory took the vessel directly towards the Caretaker's array causing a massive collision that altered the stations position. As Chakotay beaned into the confinement area with his crew, a lucky shot shorted out _Voyager's_ phaser ring on deck five. The Ensign at engineering attempted to get them back on line while the two smaller ships continued to buzz _Voyager_ top side, weakening their shield but not causing more than minor damage.

Finally, Captain Paris and Lt. Commander Tuvok appeared on the bridge. The expression on Kathryn's face told a story, one few could misinterpret. When she ordered tricobolt torpedos armed and launched at the array, destroying the Caretaker and any change of returning to the Alpha quadrant, Jabin declared _Voyager_ his sworn enemy and limped away with both raiders following behind.

"What the hell am I supposed to do now," Kathryn flopped onto the couch in her quarters several hours later. It had taken the remainder of her energy to get though the de-briefings and start on the minor repairs need to keep her ship battle ready.

They'd retained warp capability. Currently Ensign Baytart manned the helm and was following a course to a small M class planet in a system four and a half light years toward home. It would take them twelve hours to reach their destination. The Kazon limped away with their remaining vessels in the opposite direction. The Maquis were confined to a lounge on deck four under heavy guard. Everything had been taken from the room when they objected to their incarceration, including the replicator. The ring leaders were secured in the brig and proving rather indignant at being treated differently to their fellow Maquis.

"I don't see you have any choice," Tom came up behind his wife. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he started to work the knots out of the muscles. "You can't keep Chakotay and his crew confined for seventy-five years and _Voyager_ doesn't have the resources to keep thirty people on board who aren't actively working to get us back to the Alpha quadrant. They've already practically destroyed the lounge on deck four."

"Which leaves?" Kathryn sighed, placing her hands over her husbands. Turning to face him, she wrestled with the decision. She didn't want to think about the repercussion. "Either I invite them to become part of this crew, or set them down on an uninhabited class M planet to live out their natural lives. Seven women and twenty-three men. How long do you think they'd last before all the rules of society broke down into chaos?"

"Your forgetting their resident Klingon," Tom smirked. "B'Elanna would have them whipped into shape, or beat them into submission within a week."

"Quite a shiner you managed to acquire, Mr. Paris," Kathryn chuckled, reaching up to touch the still black, swollen eye, "on your return from the Ocampan World. I don't know why you didn't let the EMH treat you?"

"Let's just say," Tom smirked, happy to see his wife relaxed, even if just for a moment, "it was the lesser of two evils. The way everything's occurred, B'Elanna will see it as defending her honour and we might just be able to use this event to get her on side. I'm not saying it will be easy, but she's the linchpin in the Maquis engineering section. Besides, I still have that dermal regenerator I lifted from your office if you really want to fix me up."

"Hoping I'd offer," she laughed easily. However, Kathryn's pensiveness returned, "After meeting Ms. Torres, I'm surprised she stopped at one punch."

"Ensign Kim and Torres seem to have developed a solid friendship during their incarceration on Ocampa," Tom shrugged his shoulders easily. "He'll be a good influence on B'Elanna, if," pausing, Commander Paris appeared, "you invite the Maquis to become part of this crew, I'd be encouraging that relationship."

"Where will that leave you, Tom," Kathryn asked, obviously worried. "I've seen the animosity Chakotay levels at you, especially when he thinks my back is turned. When I met with him after I destroyed the array, he wasn't at all pleased. The rest of his crew will take their lead from him."

"I'll live," Paris smirked once again. "My wife is this really scary woman. I'm afraid to cross her and when the Maquis get to know her, they will be too."

"Can you ever be serious," Kathryn rolled her eyes.

"Occasionally," he responded, leaning in and planting a kiss on her left cheek. Pulling back, he watched the glint in her eye soften. Caressing the other cheek with is lips, this time Kate growled low in her throat. "Tonight, is not one of those times. Come on Kate, this decision will look better in the morning with a good night's sleep."

"I get the feeling sleep is the last thing on your mind, Mr. Paris," she teased.

"Caught, Mrs. Paris," he snickered, standing suddenly. Picking up his wife, Tom carried her to their bedroom.

"Tuvok to Captain Paris."

"You have a lousy sense of timing," Tom muttered under his breath, allowing Kate to slip to the floor. "What happened to privacy in our quarters?"

Quelling his protests with a look, the Captain answered the hail.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your evening, Captain," Tuvok managed to keep his voice neutral, however it seemed contrite at the same time. "Mr. Chakotay is demanding to speak with you. He wishes to know what your intention are with regard to his crew and why they are not being treated in accordance with Starfleet protocol."

"You have got to be kidding," Tom whined, although quietly enough so only his wife heard. "I think the Maquis can stew for a few hours, Kate. Trust me, this is a ploy."

Giving him a look that said, his or yours, Tom became truly angry. Pulling away from his wife, he transformed into the consummate officer. "Tuvok, the Captain and I will meet you in her ready room to discuss the tactical issues associated with Mr. Chakotay's demands."

"Understood," the Vulcan stated, yet there seemed to be a quality in his voice that comprehended the predicament he'd placed the remainder of the command team in. "Bridge out."

"Tom," Kathryn understood she'd hurt her husband, it shone in his blue eyes.

"Not here, Captain," he spat. "I refuse to discuss this matter in my quarters. They are the private domain of myself and my wife."

Nodding, Captain Paris preceded her husband from the room. "Well," she demanded, seating behind her desk in the ready room. The act of being in this space created a distinction in her mind, one she needed to retain with the fury still lacing Tom's orbs.

"If the saturation were reversed," Tom announced in an icy professional voice, "you would be doing the same as Chakotay. He's worried about his people and want's an immediate resolution but a secondary motivation as to be upsetting _Voyager's_ routine. That's the Maquis way. Don't allow your enemy to regroup, keep at them until they break. As to his crew, there are several I wouldn't trust as far as the nearest airlock. They'll be egging Chakotay on."

"Seska," Captain Paris stated, remembering their conversation with regard to the Bajoran woman.

"Suder, Dalby, Torres," Tom added, "just to name a few. Each has their personal reasons for hating either or both the Federation and Cardassian's. Most of the crew wouldn't have the ability or knowledge to mount a mutiny but would actively participate. Torres is your real problem. If she got loose, B'Elanna could cripple this ship in a matter of minutes with access to the Engineering systems. The others are just malicious and wouldn't care how much damaged they did to critical systems. If they managed to get Chakotay on side, he has ten years' experience on starships, four as a first officer before taking up his position teaching advanced tactics at the Academy campus on Furgus IV. He could be a very dangerous man, especially if pushed to the limit by the likes of Seska."

"Suggestions," the Captain demanded.

Tuvok merely allowed one eyebrow to rise before directing his gaze to Commander Paris.

"Give Chakotay the choice, stay as a Starfleet Officer with some responsibility, especially over his people or be off loaded at the class M planet," Tom shrugged easily. "Then give them the night to consider it. If they stay, Chakotay has command experience and I understand if you don't trust him, but you're going to need him to keep his people in line. Courted properly, he could be an asset and compliment the command team. Torres would be better with her energies engaged in the Engine room. Once she feels that the Warp and Impulse systems are hers, she'll develop a sense of belonging and her loyalty to those engines won't be questioned, even by the other Maquis. Ayala, under Tuvok's direction will make a good security officer. Keeping Ayala and Chakotay close gives us insight into the mood of the Maquis and how there behaving. I'm not saying it will be easy or pleasurable, learning to live together, but it fills the crew shortage. Otherwise, we equip them with the basics, enough to build a life and dump them on the nearest habitable planet."

"Without replicators or transporters," Captain Pairs sighed, placing her thumb and forefinger on the bridge of her nose to offset the coming headache. She couldn't allow any Alpha quadrant technology in case the Kazon uncovered the fledgling colony. "We can't afford to leave a shuttle. What kind of life is that?"

"Life on _Val Jean_ was _**not**_ pleasant," Tom stated acidly. While he didn't want to cause his wife pain, it was time she understood the truth. The Maquis were desperate people in an even more desperate fight with few resources. "There were few luxuries. The replicators were off line more often than they were on. We practically lived on ration bars. Energy was regulated with illumination often at less than twenty-five percent in all non-critical areas and barely above half even in those. I went days without a sonic shower, especially after a Cardassian attack. Everything went into repairs and keeping that ship functioning. Believe me, this crew could learn a lot from the Maquis when our resources dwindle."

"Can they be trusted not to sabotage _Voyager_ ," Tuvok asked.

"No," Tom responded quickly and easily. "I give it three months before at least someone attempts a mutiny or tries to contact the Kazon to sell Federation technology."

"I recall," Kathryn remembered a conversation a few days previously in this very room, "you said they are fanatics with no discipline and not suitable for employment on any vessel."

"Beggars," Tuvok added wisely, "cannot be choosers, Captain. Engineering is down six crew, we have no medical staff beyond the Emergency Medical Hologram. It would be possible to pair a Maquis crew member with Starfleet until they are able to demonstrate a level of proficiency and trust to earn their positions."

"I don't like it," Kathryn shook her head, "but understand the need." Sighing, she turned her grey eyes on Tom. "Would you accompany me, Commander, to speak with Mr. Chakotay and his crew. I believe, what is your archaic term, taking the bull by the horns, might prove more efficient and let me get back to my quarters and the semblance of a private life."

"Yes, Captain," Tom answered. His tone continuing to hold resentment.

Sending him a quelling look, they left the ready room together. The walk to deck four proved frosty. Unable to hold in her anger, Kathryn turned on the man beside her, forcing him into an empty corridor. "Enough, I expect more from you, Commander."

"Understood, Captain," Tom returned, however there was a very subtle softening in his gaze.

Making one of her famous snap decisions, Kathryn pulled Tom further into the quiet hallway where she knew they wouldn't be disturbed. "We can't keep being at each-other's throats like this," she declared.

"I haven't seen you in six months Kate," Tom took the opening. Watching the colour in his wife's eyes changed, every so subtlety, he knew her frustration matched his. "Forgive me if I want a single evening alone with my wife."

"You know as well as I do, a Captain is always on duty," Kate managed. There was fire and passion mixing in her glare. "Especially in a situation like this."

"A situation like this is even more reason," Tom parroted while make his point crystal clear. Kate had laid down the law when he first came on aboard _Voyager_. He was about to make his own demands equally understandable. "To find a dividing line between your personal and professional life, Kate. I understand you need to draw the distinction between Captain and wife and that the former is going to win more often than the latter. There are times I'm going to have to accept second place in your life and I'm good with that. But this, we're allowing the Maquis to come between us before they have even decided if they want to join your crew. What happens next time Chakotay demands you dance to his tune? Or we disagree professionally about how to handle them. We can't let this come between you and I."

"I know." Sighing, at this moment, Kathryn Paris was tired. More fatigued than she ever considered. Added to that, she'd hoped to tell Tom about the surprise awaiting them in the Alpha quadrant so he understood their personal need to get home within the next five years. "Let's get this interview out of the way, together. Then I have every intention of returning to my quarters."

Holding out her hand, Tom laced his fingers with his own. "A show of solidarity," he grinned, tightening his hold.

"Exactly," Kathryn offered, unable to keep a grin off her face. It was times like this her husband's insufferable childishness managed to get through her tough exterior. "I need you to always stay the same Tom Paris I married."

"I have for the last ten years," he teased easily, "I have no intention of stopping any time soon."

With that, Thomas Paris pulled his wife firmly against him. Understanding they would only have a few minutes alone, he moulded her body to his. One hand crept up to her tight bun but left it in the Captain's professional coiffure. It gave him the purchase to tilt Kate's head to just the right angle for his lips to caress hers. Their kiss turned both imitate and passionate within seconds. It ended just as quickly.

"Chakotay won't know what hit him," Tom mocked, changing moods rapidly and practically dragging his wife from their moment of solitude.

"You don't have to enjoy belittling the man, Tom," it was the Captain who answered.

"I worked with Chakotay for six months. Trust me, Kate, he wouldn't expect anything less," Tom grinned. "Besides, if I change my personality, he'll think he has gotten under my skin. It's the last thing I want any of the Maquis to believe."


	11. Show Down

**Part Eleven: Show Down.**

 **AN** : This chapter isn't very well edited. I wanted to get something out because you have all be so supportive of my work and personal issues. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

"So," Kathryn drawled, secretly watching her husband out of the corner of her eye, their hands still linked much to the surprise of several crew members they passed on their stroll towards the officer's lounge on deck four, "how are we going to play this."

"Good cop, bad cop," Tom answered with a wicked twinkle in his azure blue eyes while his tone remained completely serious.

"Another twentieth century colloquialism, Mr. Paris?" The Captain finally pulled her hand away as they approached the hallway leading to the Maquis current holding cell.

As always, Tom's mind rarely remained on a linier trajectory, often diverging onto a tangential theory. Years of marriage allowed Kathryn to understand there was more behind the benign words. Her husband considered the data he'd collected on each and every Maquis member during his sojourn, currently turning it over in his mind. He was looking for a way to keep his acquaintances and therefore a source of information open and available without further betraying their trust.

"You know me too well," the Commander mocked. A sly glance and Tom knew Kate understood his motivation. "I suggest you do all the talking and let me stand at your side, injecting the occasional comment the Maquis would expect."

"So, I'm the bad cop," Kathryn considered the idea. Her husband's love of all things from that ancient time period meant she didn't need to ask what a Cop was or his meaning in relation to the Maquis.

"If you want me to have any chance of bringing B'Elanna around," Tom turned solemn, "or any of the Maquis I befriended, I need to stay as neutral as possible and re-earn their trust. At some point, the crews will have to learn to tolerate each other."

"We'll discuss those issues," the Captain stated, her tone becoming hard as she slipped completely into professional mode, "if the Maquis decide to stay. Right now, I need to prepare for whatever tricks Mr. Chakotay might have up his sleeve. I don't want to be blindsided."

"Touché," Tom smirked at his wife's use of slang. "Believe me, desperate men live by their wits. Chakotay's anger at me is your leverage point, Kate. I'll keep him off guard, you need to use the openings I give you."

Captain and Commander Paris fell into a comfortable silence the moment they noticed the security team of four, armed with wide dispersal phaser rifles, guarding the room containing the Maquis. Allowing one eyebrow to rise in an imitation of her Vulcan Tactical Officer, Kathryn communicated her disquiet at the need for such a show of force. Entering, she waved aside Crewman Hanna as Tom placed a hand in the middle of her back, both as a display of unity and for moral support. If they were going to face the Maquis, they would do it without an overt show of force. Mr. Chakotay and his motley crew had to understand Commander Paris was loyal to both is Captain and Starfleet first, but still able to appreciate the Maquis perspective. Tom chose to walk a dangerous line, placing his personal safety in jeopardy, in the hope the rewards would be worth the effort.

"Mr. Chakotay," the Captain managed to throw her voice over the loud din within the room. Waiting until the noise level dropped as the people began to acknowledge her presence, Kathryn offered, "I believe you wished to speak with me about your current situation."

"There is nothing you could have to say to me," the Maquis leader stated in a dry, almost mocking tone, his body language confrontational, "that my crew shouldn't hear, after all, this involves all of us."

"I expected nothing less of you, Chakotay," Tom smiled disarmingly, spreading his hand on his wife's back. He wanted her to understand the Maquis Captain tactics while working the room with his eyes to capture as many of his previous shipmates who might still regard his acquaintance as tolerable.

Kathryn straightened to her full height without shrugging off the intimate contact. "In your position, I would do the same," she allowed easily, although her eyes told another story completely. "I have nothing to hide from your people, Mr. Chakotay. As you have pointed out, we are all in this situation together."

"Then why are we being kept in this room," Chakotay demanded, looking around accusingly. All the furniture had been removed, leaving nowhere to sit. In place of the replicator, an empty channel in the bulkhead stood mockingly. Sleeping matts littered the floor. They looked to be well used, although each of the twenty-seven Maquis inhabiting the large room currently stood. Against the back wall, the door to the heads and sonic showers remained open, affording little privacy. "This does not meet Federation policy when restraining prisoners."

"Are you suggesting you are prisoners?" Kathryn replied disarmingly.

"The guards at the door with phaser rifles are a dead giveaway," Chakotay fired back.

"That's because three of your crew attempt to destroy my ship and cause a mutiny," the Captain responded with more than a little heat in her tone. "Seska, Chell and Oden will remain in the brig until they come up on charges. So far those three are the only prisoners, and will remain confined to the brig."

"Your brig isn't big enough to hold thirty people," Chakotay stated sardonically. Neither opponent took the statement lightly. It might be considered a prediction of things to come.

"Not comfortably," Captain Paris responded in the same tone, shrugging her shoulders easily, "or, at least, not as comfortably at this room. A change of environment can be easily arranged, if you wish to be accorded the full hospitality as regards to Federation policy concerning terrorist."

"Have you been fed?" Tom warily asked, sending a sideways glance at his wife. Commander Paris didn't like the direction of this conversation. Threatening Chakotay's people, even subtly, wouldn't end well. Tom's sudden and disarming question was aimed into the room. The half dozen people who met his gaze nodded. That gave him more information than Chakotay would care to offer. He still had friends among the crew that would keep their loyalty to their Captain, but extend Tom the curtesy he'd always shown them. "Better than ration bars, I hope," his tone implied humour and reinforced their shared experience on board _Val Jean_.

"What's it to you, Paris?" B'Elanna growled from the back of the room. Pushing through the men and women blocking her way, she came to stand beside Chakotay in much the same manner as the command couple. She hadn't missed the fact he still sported the black eye she'd given him on Ocampa and it brought a feral smile to her lips.

"I served six months with you, Torres," Tom aimed his answer solely at the half Klingon. "You know me. I never once lied to you, even about being married."

Somewhat surprised by this information, Kathryn worked hard to ignore the urge to face her husband, instead continuing to watch the telling reactions on Chakotay's. The Maquis didn't miss Tom's barb, as the sudden rise in the noise level proved. It seemed the comment sparked interest in Chakotay, Torres and the relationship between them. Captain Paris understood her husband's tactic. He'd driven a subtle wedge between the Maquis Captain and his second officer, one she could exploit if necessary.

"You're a Pig, Paris," B'Elanna almost spat, her anger rising. After returning to _Val Jean_ , she'd been happy to tell everyone the truth about Nick Locarno and his true allegiance. Crossing her arms in an obvious sign of self-protection, the woman's glare could have wounded. The similarity between the Maquis Engineer and Starfleet Captain wasn't lost on many in the room.

"You've called me worse, Torres," Tom smiled at her disarmingly, his fingers lightly touching his still dark and swollen eye, "and for a lot less. I'm sorry I don't meet your current expectations but I am glad you've returned from your adventure on Ocampa."

The Maquis crew didn't flinch at the teasing, demonstrating the level of friendship and, in Captain Paris's estimation, her husband's approval of the woman. Yet, Kathryn couldn't allow the distraction to continue. In her estimation, Chakotay was about to take advantage of Tom's misdirection.

"Mr. Paris," Kathryn rebuked the man at her side. It was time to play the bad cop, "that will be enough."

"Yes, Ma'am," he nodded and became silent.

"Let me make _**my**_ position crystal clear," Captain Kathryn Paris's tone turned frosty. She was determined that it echoed throughout the room for everyone to hear, yet her perceptive grey gaze narrow to the Maquis leader. "You and your people have two choices, Mr. Chakotay. The first, agree to join my crew as full and active members under Starfleet rules and regulations. I understand Mr. Ayala and Ms. Torres have Academy training and might be considered for provisional officer status. The rest will be paired with a Starfleet personnel until they can prove an understanding and proficiency of protocol, procedure and level of trust to work without supervision."

Chakotay attempted to break into her monologue. Captain Kathryn Paris simply held up a hand and used her deadly grey eyes to stare him down. It had the desired effect, the sudden eruption of noise in the room settled. It seemed they understood she hadn't finished nor would she brook any opposition.

"I'm not interested in rebuttal, Mr. Chakotay," Kathryn's voice became deathly quiet and her glare continued to address the Maquis leader, "or negotiation. Let me make one thing crystal clear. On this ship, I'm the only _**Captain**_."

At her side, Commander Paris knew that tone. It was one even he wouldn't argue with as his posture suddenly became ramrod straight. Tom did, however, allow an ironic smirk to cover his lips. The Commander in Paris appreciated that his wife could be a very scary woman, capable of making the hard decisions and sticking to them. Chakotay and his crew needed to know she meant business.

"Your second choice," Kathryn Paris continued. "I will give you the supplies required to live on the nearest class M planet which is four light years away. Due to the Kazon-Ogla in the area, I will not be able to leave replicators, transporters or a shuttle for your use. You have until the morning to come to a unanimous decision. Any dissention will not be tolerated. Good night."

With that Kathryn nodded to her husband. Tom understood completely and escorted her to the door. Tapping her com badge before exiting the room, she had one more item on her list. An item to let both the Maquis and her crew understand Commander Paris was under her direct chain of command, both personally and professionally in this most unusual situation.

"Captain to the bridge," she barked, standing in the open doorway. The security team pretended not to hear the communication. The Maquis weren't so reserved, actively listening for any chink in either Paris's armour.

"Aye, Captain," Tuvok answered.

"Commander Paris and I are retiring for the night. Only contact me if we go to red alert," she barked out the order. "Captain out."

As the door closed behind her, Kathryn smirked. "I think that went rather well."

Unable to formulate an answer, Tom simply walked beside his wife. He knew better than to challenge her assumptions or guess the outcome of her ultimatum. Personally, he thought Chakotay and his crew would be incredibly short sighted in choosing to set up a new colony. They'd die out in a single generation, if the Kazon didn't get them first. Dependant on the outcome, Commander Tom Paris knew he'd need to speak with Tuvok and devise a plan to counteract the mutiny that was sure to occur in the next months.

Tapping his own com badge, he said, "Paris to Tuvok."

"Yes, Commander," the Vulcan's tone sounded almost annoyed.

"Can we schedule a meeting in your office tomorrow. I think we need to consider the wider ramifications of incorporating the Maquis into our crew rosters before it occurs," Tom stated carefully. The Tactical Officer would understand his meaning. In fact, they'd spoken about this situation and the possible repercussions in Kate's ready room before their showdown with the Maquis.

"I agree," Tuvok responded. "Fourteen hundred hours, in the Security Office, when I return to duty. Tuvok out."

"You can't say he minces his words," Tom joked.

"No," Kathryn agreed, followed by a heavy sigh. Her position as the Captain never ended. "Something I should know about?"

"Not at the moment," Tom sobered suddenly. Placing his hand in the middle of his wife's back was a signal. Commander Paris was uneasy and needed to bounce ideas off his Captain while craving the physical touch of his spouse. "I think we need to be prepared for a mutiny. Tuvok and I will go over every possibility and report to you once we've finished out analysis."

"I guess," Kathryn broke into Tom's thoughts as they stepped off the turbolift on deck three, "working on the same ship again, it's back to me using my rank as a call sign."

"I can see Paris to Paris getting old," Tom smirked, remembering the first time it occurred on _Olympia._ They'd weathered some good-natured teasing before agreeing to Kathryn responding to Commander, letting the junior officer use his surname.

"It's just a well," Kathryn smiled easily, looking up into the blue eyes of her husband. Eyes that were becoming more intense with every step, "I prefer being called Captain."

"So, _**Captain**_ , looks like we're home." Waggling his eyebrows suggestively, Tom knew what would happen the moment he stepped through the door into their quarters. After their argument and the intensely dissatisfying emotions it caused earlier in the evening, added to the fact they'd only spent a few hours privately in the last three days, they needed to reconnect in a very intimately private manner.

Keying in her code, Kathryn Paris felt her husband's body against hers as they waited for the door to open. Before it closed completely, Tom had her pinned to the wall, his hands making quick work of relieving their uniforms of their com badges. He took the time to place them on the glass table, something she'd insisted on early in their co-habitation when she'd been comm'ed by _Olympia's_ Captain and unable to find a way to answer discreetly.

"You're wearing too much," Tom's hoarse voice whispered into her ear while his hands stripped first her jacket and then her turtle neck from her body.

Placing her hands between them and finding purchase on his chest, Kathryn Paris pushed the man away from her. "Strip," she ordered. If she let Tom distract her, their coupling would be over far too soon for her liking. She'd felt her husband's desperate need with his body pressed against her own. She had every intention of taking care of that before allowing him to make love to her.

Understanding dawned. Tom Paris wasn't a fan of felacio but knew it served a purpose. When Kate offered, the intention was a warning. A warning she wanted him to treat her like her favourite china tea cup, with gentle, loving hands, savouring the contents slowly and allowing her to enjoy every sensation. The way he felt at this moment, he knew he wouldn't last long. Determined fingers stroked him even while Tom attempted to undress. Pushing him towards the bedroom, he crashed onto the soft surface while kicking off his boots, the last of his clothing finally hit the floor. When her lips met his turgid flesh, his mind couldn't stop his words. They were a mixture of begging and loving.

"Get up here, woman." Laying replete in the middle of their bed, Kate climbed on top of him. Skin to skin, he knew it would take some time to become completely aroused again. However, Tom Paris was going to enjoy the journey and ensure his wife had little to complain about.

"I know," Kathryn started blandly, "you didn't get your contraceptive shot before starting your assignment and you haven't been to sickbay since arriving on _Voyager_."

Flipping them over so they faced each other, Tom understood her fear. "We made love yesterday, Kate. It's a little late to be thinking about the consequences now. Besides, we can both go and get treated tomorrow."

"Tom," her voice turning grave, Kathryn knew the time had come to tell him about their son.

Looking at his wife, he suddenly understood. It was the reason she'd taken care of his needs before addressing this issue. It had been almost six months since they'd spent that weekend between his training and leaving for his current mission in bed. Yet, Kate was not pregnant and couldn't have been more than three months pregnant before he left. Their time together intimate, constantly touching or spooning in bed even when while they slept meant Tom would have seen the signs. They'd experienced two early pregnancies, both causing Kate to feel listless and fatigued within weeks of missing her first period.

"I didn't get my last shot," she confessed, a hand reaching up to touch his cheek. "It didn't seem worth it with our plans. The weekend you came home, I conceived our son."

Sitting up abruptly, it hit him. They'd lost another chance to become parents. Out here, so far away from home, they couldn't take the chance. Already they'd made enemies and this was no place to bring up a child. "I'll go and see the EMH," he offered, starting toward the edge of the mattress.

"Stop, Tom," Kathryn scooted across the surface to sit beside her husband. "He's safe, in an artificial womb at Starfleet medical."

His eyes locked onto hers. The expression, one of stunned delight. Yet those same orbs asked how and why.

"Two weeks after you left," Kathryn started, her gaze pleading with him not to interrupt, "I got my period. It was light but you know how busy we'd both been. I didn't think anything of it, well maybe I was disappointed."

"You wanted to be pregnant," Tom looked confused and hopeful at the same time.

"I wanted to make sure I had something of my husband," she clarified, "in case he never came home. I knew how dangerous your mission was going to be so I had my contraceptive reversed while you were on Earth training. I hoped it might happen on that weekend. Two weeks later if threw up and I knew. I headed straight for Earth and had it confirmed. A week later I had our son transferred to an artificial womb. I didn't want to take the chance, Tom."

"Shh," he soothed, cradling her in his warm embrace. "After losing two, I understand. Where is he now, Kate and how much time do we have?"

"Five years," she didn't hesitate, nor did the tears streaming down her cheeks. "We have to be home, or at least in contact with Starfleet Medical within five years. If not, then your sister Elizabeth will raise him. She and Gerric found out they can't have children because of his genetic diversity."

Nodding his understanding, he knew there was a lot more she needed to say. Guiding them back onto the mattress, Tom spooned his wife carefully. Waiting, he was finally rewarded as the entire story came out.

"The containment unit for the artificial womb was small enough for me to ware strapped to my abdomen until he was twelve weeks." Taking Tom's hand, Kathryn placed it on her flat belly, allowing them both to imagine what I would have been like to feel their child growing and developing internally. "I wanted our son to feel my heartbeat and hear my voice. I made sure he came everywhere with me. After that, I gained permission to keep our son in our quarters until he reached nineteen weeks. I had to agree to constant monitoring and weekly check-ups. Then Voyager's trials started. I couldn't risk taking him with me, so I had him placed in stasis."

"We'll get back, Kate," Tom promised.

"Love me," she asked.

"I always have," he managed a sad smile, "and I always will."

There were no words between them after that. What followed was the gentlest exploration of each other, filled with touches that communicated all they could not say. The words would come later. Now they needed to appreciate and reconnect on the most basic level.

"Tom," Kathryn murmured as he once again spooned her in his loving arms. "I love you."

"Go to sleep, Kate," he smiled into her red locks, unable to find the energy to even kiss her, "and I love you too. I have no intention of ever stopping."


	12. Making Plans

**Part Twelve: Making Plans**

 **AN:** A huge thank you to all those who continue to read my work and more especially to those who have commented on my recent loss. In some ways writing is cathartic, when I get the time. If there is any particular aspect of Tom, Kate, their relationship or anything else you'd like to see, please don't hesitate to let me know. I love ideas and incorporating them into my Fics where possible.

* * *

"You knew?" Chakotay demanded of his half Klingon engineer.

The rest of _Val Jean's_ crew watched on, stunned that their leader turned on Torres the moment Captain and Commander Paris left the room. Obviously Chakotay's anger was misdirected when he was so obviously mad at Nick Locarno, the man who'd become his friend and trusted first officer but turned out to be a Federation plant. They all were, however, few would take out their feelings so publicly on the temperamental Engineer. B'Elanna could hold her own, physically and verbally, even with Chakotay.

"Knew what?" Torres returned just a frustrated, hands going to her hips as a dangerous glint entered her darkening eyes.

"That Locarno, or should I say Paris, was married," Chakotay stated acidly.

"It came up. He said his wife was a friend of his sister, that's how they met," B'Elanna shrugged, unable to understand why Chakotay was making such a big deal of this. "I'm not the only one who talked to him, or considered him a friend, or realised he wasn't the cocky pilot he pretended to be. I didn't punch him because he was married. I punched that petaQ for lying about his identity, for making a fool out of me."

"Nicolas Locarno is an only child," the Maquis Captain responded angrily. "If you'd thought to tell me, we might have uncovered his true allegiance earlier."

"So, this is my fault," Torres spat, giving her friend a death stare. Her breast heaving, B'Elanna was working hard to keep her temper in check. "If you had your mind on the job, he might have told you." The accusation that Chakotay had been too busy bedding Seska suddenly stood between them. The entire crew now understood the reason why the friendship between Paris and Torres started, he'd proved to be safe. "Despite everything, even punching him in the face, Loc…Paris hasn't lied to me."

"Then you knew," Chakotay became incensed, "he was a Starfleet spy?"

"I knew," Torres's anger changed to self-loathing as she analysed her own feelings, "that he wasn't as caught up in the cause as we were, that he was too Starfleet to ever really fit in. I didn't know he was Intelligence!"

"But you'd started to suspect," Chakotay accused.

"Arguing amongst ourselves," Mike Ayala cut into the all-encompassing atmosphere of hostility that pervaded every molecule in the room, "only serves their purpose of tearing us apart when we need to stick together. It doesn't matter what we think of Paris. Truth is, the man served his purpose, both on _Val Jean_ and for the Federation. He did his duty and preformed it well. Can we trust him? He got Torres back from the Ocampa. Do I trust him? More than the rest of the Fleeter's on this ship but less than my fellow Maquis. Can we use him? That's what we need to uncover, especially with his marriage to the Captain."

Sighing, although still internally seething, Chakotay nodded his head in agreement. The tactician in him understood Mike Ayala's perspective and knew he'd be a good choice for first officer if they ever got back to the Alpha quadrant. It seemed this situation displayed his unique talents as time on _Val Jean_ never had.

"Personally," Chakotay muttered, "I'd rather take my chances on _Voyager_ than wait for the Kazon to find us. It seems the lesser of two evils."

"I came from a colony world," B'Elanna reminded the group, gaining their attention with her obvious distain for settling on any planet. "There were over four hundred specialists with a ship full of equipment in the initial colonisation wave. The settlers followed three years later when the first town and fields had been established. That planet hasn't been properly scanned, its resources catalogued or the best position for settlement determined. We'll never make it past the first winter with only thirty of us, let alone survive long term. _Voyager_ doesn't have enough reserves to spare and we don't have the population to last more than one or two generations, if the natives don't get us first."

"So, we stay?" Hogan asked, confused, his gaze going from the Captain to the Engineer and back again. It seemed this decision had brought them back together.

"I'm not working under Starfleet regulations," Dalby spat. He'd hated Locarno but serving on this ship might just give him the opportunity to get back at the traitor. There might even be some of the Fleeter's that would help. Intelligence officers, by their nature, were feared by the general crew of any ship.

"They couldn't protect my wife's home when the Cardissian's destroyed it," Mike Ayala seemed to be the only voice of reason. His words measured and even, his Academy training was finally shining through. Only Chakotay understood and had to keep back a secret smile as he uncovered what a fine Officer Ayala would have become. "I didn't take up my first commission because of it, but I want to get home to see my sons and Marla. _Voyager_ is my only chance, so whatever the rest of you decide, I'm staying and playing by their rules."

"I don't trust them either," added O'Donnell in a soft, thoughtful tone, "but there aren't any Cardies out here and the options are limited. I want to get home, so I guess the only way is to join _Voyager's_ crew."

"What choice do we have," Hogan chimed in. "Seska tried to do something and look what happened. She's in the brig with Chell and Oden."

The comment started the Maquis thinking. Gathering into smaller groups based on friendships, they discussed the merits of Captain Paris's options. Of course, in the back of everyone's minds were the ideas Seska planted. It wouldn't be mutiny if they took over the ship, establishing Chakotay as the Captain and running _Voyager_ the Maquis way.

"It will never work," Chakotay said, after allowing his crew to air their opinions, then calling for silence. "Taking over this ship is not an option. We're out numbered three or four to one. They have weapons and the tactical advantage of knowing the schematics of this vessel. Besides, Tom Paris," he almost spat the name, "knows the strengths and weaknesses of each and every one of us. He'll be working with their security division to ensure we don't have a chance to cause trouble."

"How do you now that," Gurren asked. Young and new to _Val Jean_ , he honestly wanted to know.

"I served as First officer on an Excelsior class ship for five years," Chakotay responded. "Starfleet has procedures and protocols for every contingency. It's the Tactical Officers job to anticipate trouble, avoid it where possible and plan counter measures if not. Added to that, Paris is an Intelligence operative. To reach even Lt. Commander, he would have at least ten years' experience in the field. Believe me, Starfleet's rules and regulations won't have changed that much since I resigned my commission."

"You can't even breath," Torres added, remembering her time at the academy on Earth, "under the weight of their system. I didn't want anything to do with Starfleet in San Francisco and I don't want anything to do with them now."

"Surely," Ayala grinned, "the use of proscribed responses is something in our favour. You, Torres and I can anticipate Captain Paris's next move by the constraints placed on her to follow the rules and regulations. All we have to do is act compliant and stay one step ahead of them. When the time comes, we act."

"I'm with Mike," Dalby called out. Several voices joined him in agreement.

"Is there anyone who objects?" Chakotay called to his crew. Although several people murmured with discontent, they understood the necessity and would follow their Captain. Loyalty among the Maquis was hard to come by, but in this situation, it proved to be all they had. "All right people, I'll get security to inform Paris of our decision."

"Yeh," Jonas called out, "get her and that traitor Paris down here now. No need to let him rest."

"We need to play this by their rules," Ayala commented, his chocolate eye boring into the engineer, "if we have any hope of convincing them of our compliance."

"We wait until tomorrow morning," Chakotay agreed. "I want every one of you on your best behaviour. If you don't think you can live with all the rules, come to Ayala or me. We'll get you through until they trust us enough to let us work independently. We need to know this ship inside out before we try anything."

"If I can get access to the systems in Engineering," B'Elanna enthused before feeling torn. While she wanted Chakotay in charge, if anyone damaged those engines she'd make sure they looked a whole lot more beaten than Tom Paris.

"You will," Chakotay grinned, understanding his Engineer's expression and her emotions. "That goes for everyone in whatever part of the ship your assigned too. When we're ready, I'm going to need each and every one of you to do the job Ayala, Torres and I set. Understood?"

Nodding, there were several people with stunned expression on their faces. Everything was happening quickly. The Maquis had long ago learnt to adapt and survive against the greatest of odds. However, this challenge might just prove too much for some of his crew. Chakotay knew they'd never faced a situation quite like this one. Undisciplined and untrained with respect to Starfleet protocols, it would take months to bring them up to speed. Until he was ready, he needed his people to blend into this crew while he ingratiated himself into the command structure. If they were lucky, Torres might end up as the Engineering Chiefs offsider, if only she could control her Klingon temper. Chakotay knew they needed B'Elanna in a position of trust if any uprising was to be successful.

"I don't like it," Crewman Hanna whispered to his security partner. Half an hour had passed since Captain and Commander Paris exited the room and still there was only the occasional sound escaping the closed door.

"Me either," Batty agreed, his gaze catching the other security officers knowingly.

"Their being too quiet," frowned Ensign Smith, the only officer assigned to this detail, "almost as if they're planning something. I think I'll let Lt. Commander Tuvok know."

"What do you think they're going to do?" asked Tarcan. The only Orion on board _Voyager_ , he watched his superior walk a little way down the corridor before com'ing the Tactical officer for further orders.

"I bet they'll stay," Hanna shrugged his shoulders easily. "What choice do they really have? Would you want to be left in Kazon space on an unprotected and undeveloped planet?"

"I guess not," Tarcan responded thoughtfully. "Which means, we need to watch their every move. I can't see that lot fitting into this crew. It's going to be a security nightmare for Lt. Commander Tuvok."

"Those are problems for the senior staff to sort out," Hanna smirked. "I sure wouldn't like to be up before an inquiry board, trying to justify my reasons for offering, let alone accepting Maquis onto my ship when we get back to the Federation."

Shorted staffed, the security team standing outside deck four's officers lounge where routinely pulling twelve-hour shifts. They were just being relieved as Captain Paris approached the door to the Maquis holding area the next morning. Not wishing to leave, or more likely, wanting to know what the Maquis decided, they waited until their commanding officer exited the room fifteen minutes later. A frown covered her face as she sighted the eight officers standing around casually. Captain Kathryn Paris knew what they were doing and why. Secretly she admired the loyalty Tuvok had built in his team.

"Mr. Hanna, Mr. Tarcan, I know you're due to go off duty," Kathryn smiled weakly at the two guards, while dismissing Smith and Batty with a nod. She'd deliberately chosen the two for their imposing size. "However, I would appreciate if you could accompany Mr. Chakotay and Mr. Ayala to my ready room in half an hour."

"Aye, Captain," they pair acknowledged, pleased.

Nodding in dismissal, they got their answer as the tiny woman tapped her com badge and called for the quartermaster to attend her ready room immediately. He was to bring a PADD with a list of the currently empty quarters and duty stations that required filling. It seemed, for better or worse, the Maquis would soon be part of _Voyager's_ crew.

Chakotay insisted on bringing Mike Ayala to the meeting with the Captain. Waiting for permission, it was given curtly before Hanna and Tarcan escorted the two Maquis towards the turbolift. As they waited for the doors to open, Commander Paris exited but remained close enough to hold the elevator, giving them a nod and smile.

"Mr. Hanna, Mr. Tarcan," Tom offered politely before turning his attention to Chakotay and Ayala. "While you're talking to the Captain," he offered lightly, "I'll be taking Torres on a tour of the Engine room."

"Paris," the warning tone was enough to make the younger man smile delightedly. Chakotay understood his methods. If B'Elanna though she had a shot of being in charge of the warp core and impulse nacelles, her attention and loyalty would be fixed towards the inanimate objects. She could never condone anyone causing damage to her engine room.

Sauntering down the corridor after winking at Chakotay, Commander Tom Paris knew he'd affected the Maquis leader, which would help Kate in her negotiations. Like it or not, his wife's emotions were held tightly just under the surface after their discussion last night. They had a long way to go, both in terms of distance and Kate forgiving herself for leaving their son behind. The former he had little doubt she would achieve by will power alone. The latter would take months of carefully controlled coddling by her devoted husband before she let go of her guilt.

Greeting the guards by name earnt Tom a surprised look as he signalled for the door to be opened. Once inside the room, Commander Paris was greeted by glares ranging from pure hatred to cautious regard. It seemed some remembered his time in the Maquis cordially. However, his next order might change the minds of those few who were willing to give him the benefit of doubt.

"Torres," Paris watched the tiny half Klingon make her way towards him, "you're with me."

"No," B'Elanna hissed, taking up a hostile posture, "I'm not!"

"That's a shame," Tom smiled easily, his posture open and relaxed. Paris never changed his character on undercover missions, or pretended to be anyone but himself. It would be too easy to slip up and had the added potential of slightly confusing anyone who exposed his true identity. "I thought you might like to be sprung for a little tour of the Engine room."

Regarding him warily, B'Elanna demanded, "why?"

"I'll let you into a secret," he mock whispered, loud enough for the rest of the room to hear, "you're the best engineer I've ever met. That's not a claim I make lightly, Torres. I've served on twelve vessels from four different organisations across both the Alpha and Beta quadrants."

Making a sound in the back of her throat, which displayed her not wanting to be impressed by his words, B'Elanna continued to glare. However, such praise, coming from Loc…Paris actually meant something to her. Apart from his name, the man had never actually lied to her and that thought caused her internal morality to be challenged. Even now, he wasn't treating her any differently to the way they interreacted on _Val Jean_.

" _Voyager's_ short a Chief Engineer," Tom continued easily, his blue eyes locking with hers to prove his sincerity. "I've put in a word with the Captain about your potental, especially as you kept those decrepit forty-year-old engines running without docking at a Starbase every six months."

"If you think," Torres suddenly stood straighter, cursing herself for the reaction at his praise, "Captain Paris would give me the position, even on your recommendation, you're crazy."

"You're not losing anything," Tom tormented, throwing out a challenge he knew Torres couldn't refuse, "by accompanying me, B'Elanna."

When Commander Paris exited the room, he waved off the security detail. Beside him B'Elanna's face remained pensive. Tom could almost read her mind. If she didn't have a retinue following her every movement, it would be easy to create havoc and put the Maquis firmly in charge of _Voyager_. Commander Paris needed to disabuse her of that notion immediately.

"How," he mocked, "will you get anything done in Engineering if there are two guards accompanying you all the time."

"You're serious about this, Paris?" she demanded. Looking at him, Torres stopped dead in the middle of the corridor.

"What is it with women," he muttered under his breath, "wanting to stop and discuss things in public." Grabbing her arm, he directed them towards the turbolift.

"Having problems with the wife already, Paris?" B'Elanna turned her humour on him.

"Nothing I can't handle, Torres," Tom fired back.

They continued the banter as the pair stepped into the turbolift and Tom called for deck eleven. Walking down the corridor, the vibe between them didn't feel so different from the times they'd done the same on _Val Jean_. That ceased the moment the doors to Engineering opened. Gobsmacked, B'Elanna Torres almost had an orgasm. The warp core was a shade of blue she'd never seen, the matter/anti matter mix blended perfectly. Beneath her feet, Torres could feel the hum in perfect harmony proving the manifolds were aligned flawlessly. Each station worked, the displays easily readable as she walked past. She'd only ever dreamed of something this new and sophisticated.

Tom didn't comment, he simply followed the young woman as she wandered further into the room. Nodding at Lt. Carey, the man joined them. He'd been briefed on the Commander's plan. While he didn't like the idea of a Maquis traitor heading up the Engine room, he'd seed the tactical advantage.

"It's…." lost for words, B'Elanna's chocolate gaze said all she couldn't.

"This is Lt. Joe Carey," Tom introduced. "Currently Mr. Carey is in charge down here. I though you might like to discuss your experiences on _Liberty_ and _Val Jean_. How you kept those ancient engines running without down time and six-monthly overhauls."

The look on Joe's face could be considered comical under different circumstances. Here, in the middle of a quadrant seventy thousand light years form Earth, the reality of their situation was finally sinking in. The Engineer hadn't considered more than immediate repairs. Before Lt. Carey could open his mouth, Torres fired several questions at him. Joe stuttered a response which quietly amused Paris. It seemed B'Elanna had observed more in the few minutes she'd walked around the department than Carey anticipated.

 _It seems my little plan worked_ , he didn't congratulate himself, at least not yet. Tom Paris still had to convince the Captain to make B'Elanna the Chief Engineer over Lt. Carey. _We need Torres on side, or at least not working against us to delay or supress any future uprising. I just have to convince Kate and Tuvok this is in our best interests, on multiple fronts._

"I have work to do," Tom inserted into the conversation casually. Joe and B'Elanna were already arguing and for a moment both had stopped to draw breath. He didn't want to understand the conversation about needing refined gallasite to line the warp coils within a few years, or converting a cargo hold into a processing plant for all manner of mineral treatment into a form they could utilise. They were using engineer's terminology and it seemed to be creating a bridge between them. "I'm going to leave Torres in your capable hand's Lieutenant. I suggest you learn to doge," he touched his still swollen, although a little less black, eye. "Torres has a temper. B'Elanna, I meant what I said. If you have any chance of making these engines yours, you're going to have to learn to deal with the engineering staff in a proscribed manner. Maquis tactics won't work here. Assault another officer and you'll do time in the brig."

"Sir," Joe swallowed, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of a traitor loose in his section. Especially one with a short temper and Klingon genes.

"I had operations install a punching bag in the Chiefs office," Commander Paris used a mixture of cajoling and humour within his order, "I suggest you use it instead of Joe's head, Torres. Play nicely, I'll be back in an hour."

With Lt Carey's jaw on the ground and B'Elanna's knuckles almost white, Commander Tom Paris sauntered away, safe in the knowledge that when he returned the two would have formed the semblance of a working relationship. At least he hoped so. It would make his next stop that much easier and selling the idea of Torres as Chief Engineer more palatable to the Captain.

* * *

 **AN:** I've tried to keep Tom's true personality as realistic as possible. I love the fact that he's really this good guy, almost a hero and so selfless. I've wondered what he might have been like if Caldik Prime didn't happen. I guess marrying him to Kathryn before that occurred is giving me the opportunity to explore Tom as the good guy right from the start of the voyage.


	13. Integration

**Part Thirteen: Integration.**

 **AN:** This started out as a small chapter and turned into something that seemed to grow. I hope you like the direction I've taken. It really just wrote itself once I got going. The only reactions I consider not quite realistic, or perhaps more hopeful is the last scene between Harry, B'Elanna, Tom and Kate. Read it and let me know what you think. Oh, and for the review that wanted Seska out of the picture, she's currently in the Brig!

* * *

"Captain to Tuvok and Paris," Kathryn ordered into her com badge, "report to my ready room."

After leaving Torres in the more than capable hands, at least he hoped, of Joe Cary, Tom Paris found himself on his way to the bridge. He'd half expected the call from his wife, considering Chakotay and Ayala had been escorted to their meeting with the Captain a quarter of an hour ago. Arriving on deck one, Tuvok stood at his station. The fact the Vulcan waited for Paris before entering the Ready room spoke volumes. Both understood the implications of the Maquis decision and would meet later in the day to lay in plans for the mutiny they knew would eventuate.

"Commander," Tuvok offered, stepping from behind his tactical console. Although the ranking officer, he preferred to remain on station unless forced into the Captain's chair.

"Shall we," Tom managed a smirk, indicating the Captain's door.

The Vulcan had been on duty for the Alpha, Beta and start of the Gamma shift yesterday, allowing the Captain and Commander time alone overnight. It had been a concession that would need to be repaid, but not today or in the foreseeable future. There would be too much to organise in the coming weeks for any of the Command team to let their guard down.

Lt. Commander Tuvok and Commander Paris entering the Ready room together sent a message to the Maquis on multiple levels. Standing, the petite woman indicated they should move through to the conference room via the rear corridor. Warrant Officer Holwort looked up from the pile of PADDs scattered on the table before her and frowned. While Greta prepared for the meeting, it didn't mean she wanted the Maquis to join the crew.

"I suggest we settle in," Kathryn ordered, while taking the chair at the head of the table. "We have a lot of work to get through." Once they were seated, the Captain turned her steely glare on everyone in the room. "We are here because the former Maquis crew have decided to join _Voyager_ under Starfleet rules and regulations. I intend to address the entire crew before the end of the current shift. However, this decision poses many and varied problems. The first is the choice of my Executive Officer."

Pausing, the Captain caught the eye of Mr. Paris, Mr. Tuvok and finally Mr. Chakotay. The first smiled non-committedly. Tom had never wanted the post as Kathryn knew. She passed him over easily. Tuvok didn't respond to the question in her gaze, which was an indication of his thoughts. She'd spoken with her long-time friend and confident prior to meeting with the Maquis. Gaining his perspective had been insightful. Finally, her scrutiny rested on Chakotay. If she didn't miss her guess, or the straightening of the man's spine, the former Maquis Captain was shocked to be considered. Now it was a possibility, hope burgeoned and his tacticians mind started working, which only proved Tuvok's and Tom's points.

 _Keep your friends close_ , Kathryn recalled the Vulcan's emotionless words, _but your enemies closer. I suggest you consider Mr. Chakotay as your best option. This will allow Mr. Paris and I to toil in the background. Together we can work quietly to ensure there is little discord leading to rebellion, from either crew._

 _The man could be carefully courted_ , Tom warned before kissing his wife and leaving for his duty shift this morning.

"Mr. Chakotay," the Captain continued her calculating stare, "I understand you are the only person in this room to have held the position of Frist Officer on a Starfleet vessel."

"Yes," Chakotay offered easily, folding his hands onto the table before him and leaning forward. His body language gave away his interest, which caused Kathryn Paris to consider her husband's information. "I served on the USS Lakota, an Excelsior Class vessel under Captain Jessa Gurt."

"How long?" She enquired, opening her own body language to appear attentive. Kathryn Paris had read his file on the way to DS9 and memorised most of it.

"Five years, two as second bridge officer," Chakotay responded, "three as first before taking up a teaching position on Furgus IV."

"So, you have experience with crew rosters, morale, discipline, training and protocol," Kathryn offered thoughtfully. "The question I have to ask, are you willing to work with me, Mr. Chakotay? You have experience and understand the bond that must exists between a Captain and her first officer. Do you think you can put aside your allegiance to your people and make them our crew? Can I count on you, trust you, with my ship and it's compliment?"

Chakotay wanted to look towards Mike Ayala, but dared not. This was more than he'd expected. Understanding Commander Paris wouldn't be a good choice, the Maquis leader felt sure the position would fall to Tuvok. Then again, the Tactical officer might serve his Captain better by retaining his current role. The thoughts passed through Chakotay's mind rapidly, yet as the second in command, he would know everything that occurred on _Voyager_ and be able to move freely around the ship. Further, he would come to know the rest of the Senior Officers intimately and be given Command codes.

"That depends, Captain," Chakotay responded cautiously, "on how fairly any former Maquis are treated within the Starfleet structure. As you stated, both Torres and Ayala have Starfleet training."

"Torres is currently in Engineering," Tom spoke for the first time. His eyes flicked to his wife, hoping he's picked the correct time to bring up this subject. He would be in trouble for taking this decision unilaterally. Still, it was obvious to him why Torres should be in charge of the ships propulsions systems. "I have the most senior officer showing B'Elanna the engines with the aim of convincing the Captain she is the best candidate for Chief."

Chakotay's eyes bulged, before he got his emotions under control. First, Paris attempted to place a wedge between them last night. Now the man was tempting Torres with the ranking position in Engineering. Both knew the outcome making her the Chief. B'Elanna's first loyalty would always be to her engines.

"I must concur, Captain," Tuvok stated indifferently, analysing the subtle emotions crossing Chakotay's face. "Ms. Torres academy transcript, while littered with disciplinary issues clearly demonstrates her engineering ability. She is, by far, the most qualified Engineer currently aboard _Voyager_."

"B'Elanna's good enough to teach at the Academy," Chakotay broke in, anger contained in his flashing brown eyes. It was directed at Paris, informing the younger man he understood the ploy and had taken up the challenge.

Frowning, Captain Paris watched the men seated at the table. With all three in agreeance and without any real objection except that Lt. Carey had spent years working towards the position, she found herself with little alternative. "So, we have a new Chief Engineer. Ms. Holwort, please assign provisional Lieutenant, junior grade, B'Elanna Torres quarters and replicator rights for uniforms. Lt. Torres is to study Starfleet methodology with Lt. Carey and will meet with me weekly until further notice."

"I understand," Kathryn considered her next move carefully. Once again Tom's words came back to her and she chose to both court Chakotay and flatter Ayala. "Mr. Ayala, you are also a graduate of the Academy, in the operations stream." When Mike nodded, the Captain felt the man to be very self-contained and hard to read. "Will you accept a provisional commission of Ensign, and work with Lt. Commander Tuvok in Security?"

"Yes, Sir," Ayala said. The barest hint of a smile gracing the corners of his lips.

"I prefer Captain, Mr. Ayala, or Ma'am at a pinch," the Captain returned. It was an order. "Ms. Holwort," the raised eyebrow was enough for the Quartermaster to go about her duties without further instruction.

"Aye, Captain," Greta responded, discarding one PADD and picking up another.

"Now, Mr. Chakotay," Kathryn turned her attention to the man.

"I accept the position of First Officer, Captain," he stated easily, sinking back into his chair. The fact Torres and Ayala had been incorporated so easily lead him to believe the same would be true of the rest of his people.

"Good. You will be awarded the rank of provisional Lt. Commander. Your presence will be required in your office for this shift and the next, Mr. Chakotay. I'll have Yeoman Dje show you to your quarters so you can change," Kathryn stated easily. "Now to other ships matters. Mr. Tuvok what is the state of repairs?"

After half an hour, the Captain stood, signalling the meeting was ending. "Your first task, Mr. Chakotay, is to report on the skills and experience of each of the former Maquis crew, make suggestions on how to best utilise their services and with the consultation of Mr. Tuvok and Ms. Holwort, assign them posts and quarters. I want everyone in place by tomorrows duty shifts."

Looking around the table, the four men and one woman nodded their understanding. "The next senior staff meeting will occur at o eight hundred tomorrow morning and will be held every day, whether or not you are on duty. Quartermaster, you are not required for these debriefings. Dismissed."

As they filed out, Kathryn remained seated as she growled, "Mr. Paris, a moment of your time, please."

"Captain," Tom stood to attention, knowing what was coming next. Tuvok gave him a look that on anyone else would be one of condolence. To his utter surprise, his wife's stern facade turned into a smile when the door slid closed.

"How did you get Lt. Carey to accept Torres?" she demanded. There was no heat in her tone and her grey eyes twinkled.

"Accept might be too strong a word," Tom responded uneasily. "I spoke to him before he went on shift. Joe's not happy but understands my reasons for wanting Torres as Chief and agrees with them. Besides, he's going to be holding all the override codes until we trust B'Elanna completely and report on any behaviours that need investigation. Give it three months, Captain, and you'll never know Lt. Torres wasn't an Academy graduate assigned to this ship by Starfleet."

"I hope you're correct, Mr. Paris," she allowed that eyebrow to rise, a learnt gesture from long association with Tuvok. Kathryn's look said, _if we were in our quarters now_ , but they knew they weren't and the moment past swiftly. "Speaking of override codes, I want you to hold them on this vessel."

Smirking, Tom knew this was protocol, given his position as the most senior Intelligence officer. "The computer has already transferred them to the computer in my office."

"Your office," Kathryn asked suspiciously. "I was unaware the Chief Con officer had such a space."

"He doesn't," Tom chuckled easily, "but the only Intelligence officer on board is to be provided a space with level ten forcefields, the ability to stop site to site transport and a computer system divorced from _Voyager's_ mainframe. Don't look at me that way, it was Tuvok who insisted. Besides, only you and our Tactical Officer know about it."

"Where did he bury you," Kathryn only just managed to hold back the chuckle, "on deck fifteen."

"No," Tom sobered. "Deck Nine A. I have the space that should house the Captain's Yacht."

"I see," this time she didn't hold back a chuckle. The space was perfect, and large, and completely unused by the crew. Even the forward lounge on that level was disregarded as too difficult to access via the turbolift system. The Intelligence officer would never be disturbed in the bowels of the saucer section. "Dismissed."

"I hope I've made the correct decision," Kathryn groaned.

Pulling off her jacket as she entered her quarters, it landed on the single seat in the living area before she slumped onto the couch. They had both worked the Alpha and Beta shifts to get the Maquis integration organised for the start of tomorrows rosters. Sharing a working meal in the Captain's private dining room with Tuvok and Chakotay, the four had stood together on the bridge as they made the announcement about combining the crews over the audio and visual systems.

"You're the Captain, you're always right," Tom teased. When his wife's grey eyes boarded into him, he followed her lead, shedding his outer layer and sitting beside her. It wasn't unusual to find them so close their thighs touched. "What choice did you really have? We both know it would have been inhumane to leave them on that Planet. Even one not in Kazon territory would have been an eventual death sentence."

"It doesn't make me feel any less guilty," Kathryn responded, "forcing my crew to work alongside someone who is potentially plotting against them, or promoting Chakotay and Torres above people who deserved those positions, who have worked their entire careers to climb the ranks."

"Making Chakotay your first officer and Torres the Chief of Engineering will calm things for a while. Tactically it was the right move. Both Tuvok and I have gone on record supporting your command decision," Tom consoled. His hand snaked around his wife's neck, pulling her closer.

"Which just mean," Kathryn shook her head, "we'll all be in front of a court martial when we get home."

"Kate," Tom turned serious and forced his wife to face him, "there are two thing I know about you after ten years of marriage and almost twenty-five of knowing you. You will get us home and you'll continue to add unnecessary guilt for every command decision you make no matter the outcome. I'm your husband and I'm here to make sure you're not crushed under the weight of your own expectations. We both know they've always been impossibly high." In an instant Paris became the irrepressible individual she'd fallen in love with, "oh, and I love you and always will, even if you're angry with me for going behind your back without permission."

Taking in a deep breath and letting it out with a sigh, Kathryn Paris tried to remain unaffected by her incorrigible husband. It was impossible as he pulled her onto his knee and laid light kisses under her ear. It didn't take long for the man to groan.

"I'm not going to win this round," Tom exhaled as Kate's body remained stiff in his embrace, "am I."

"No," Kathryn couldn't stop the sudden laugh. He'd managed to change her mood, something Mr. Paris was very good at achieving when he set his mind to the task. "I need to talk about this, Tom. I need to talk about the emotional repercussions, as you've reminded me. I missed you so much on _Billings_ , not being there beside me at night, to go through the events of the day and make sense of them."

"You had Tuvok," Tom stated easily, his hand rubbing up and down Kate's spine.

"Not quite the same," Kathryn dead panned.

"I hope not," he teased with a mock growl, "your both married and I can't see our resident Vulcan breaking that many rules."

"Now I have both of you," she managed yet another smile and rewarded her husband with a light kiss, "on the same ship. I won't know myself."

"I have a feeling the decisions on _Voyager_ ," Tom cut to the heart of her issues without trying, "are going to be more intense and difficult than any other command you've held. You don't have the ability to communicate with Starfleet on matters of procedure, or others of your rank to debrief and socialise with. The buck stops with you."

"How do you do that," Kathryn demanded, her anger rising as she stood and paced. One of the aspects of Tom's personality that she hated was his ability to cut to the very heart of any issue they encountered.

"I know you, Kate," Tom stood, capturing his wife mid-step. Hands on her shoulders, he forced her to look up at him. "I know what you're thinking and how those thoughts came about. This is not going to be the last time we have this discussion so drop the pretence of resentment and work with me to fix the issue before it becomes a major problem."

"I'm not sure I know how," she slumped into his embrace.

"And there in lays the real issue," Tom whispered into her ear. Straightening, he led them back to the couch. "It's been five years since we worked on the same vessel and even then we were in different authority structures. At the time I was a Lieutenant and you a Lt. Commander. We were both younger, inexperienced and not in the same command positions. This is very different and we have to find our way through. Even living in the same quarters on Jupiter Station, we had our own careers and interests outside of our marriage. I can't do this alone, Kate. You need to meet me half way, you need to trust me with all your insecurities and vulnerabilities, that I'll keep them to myself, not as one of your crew, but as your husband."

"I'm the captain and responsible for these people, for getting them home," Kathryn's tone, filled with guilt and determination, demonstrated her resolve.

"I'm your life partner and responsible for the health and welfare of my mate," Tom returned, "especially as she's the Captain. There are times you're going to need to be just plain Mrs. Paris, to let your hair down and relax."

Sighing once again, Kathryn looked deeply into those crystal-clear orbs. Tom said so much with just a look. She'd learnt to interpret them over their marriage.

"Let's go to bed," she offered, feeling restless and unresolved. Sleep would be the last thing on her mind but a little activity might help.

"That's not going to solve this issue," Tom warned. "Adding sex into the mix will only allow you to procrastinate longer, or ignore the issue completely. We need to get this out in the open now, tonight, Kate. I'm not going to bed until this is resolved."

"What do you suggest, then, Mr. Paris," she challenged.

Without a word, Tom stood. Offering a hand, he helped his wife from their couch and into her jacket. Holding out his hand, he laced their fingers before heading to the turbolift. In the hallways of Voyager, even in uniform but on their off-duty time, he refused to allow Kate to let go. Exiting at deck six, Tom called up an open program he'd installed prior to leaving for his Maquis mission. Pulling a reluctant Kate behind him, they entered through the arch.

"Sandrine's," Kathryn sounded surprised as she looked around the smoky space. Releasing her husband's hand, she walked over to the pool table and lovingly rand her fingers over the felt. A smile covering her face at the sudden feeling of tranquillity that washed over her, she asked cheekily, "wan' a play?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Tom grinned back, remembering the times they'd shared a meal or game in Marcelles on Earth. He'd introduced his, then, fiancée to the place in his final year as a cadet. It became a haven for them in the months after Admiral Janeway passed and before they married.

"I'm going to demolish you," Kathryn teased, the worries from outside the holodeck walls slipping away, if only for an hour.

"Don't you always," he mocked. "I'm kind of sorry I ever introduced you to…."

"Monsieur and Madame Paris," the bistros owner swaggered her way towards them, "it has been too long, no!"

"You programmed in Sandrine," Kathryn asked, astonished by the detail. While she knew her husband's programs were excellent, this was the first time she'd been able to compare reality to his creativity. He'd captured the very essence of the quaint bar.

"Why would he not, Chéri," asked the temperamental hologram before turning her back on them and muttering under her breath in French.

While the Captain and her husband spent an hour relaxing, Ensign Kim slid into a seat beside the now Starfleet attired half Klingon engineer who had worked through two shifts without stopping. "I guess I can't call you Maquis now," the young Asian grinned, before seeing the rank bar on her collar. "Lt. Torres," he stated in a surprised tone, "that's some promotion."

"That's Chief Engineer Torres to you, Starfleet," she returned his smile while pushing out a chair beside her. The space on deck two might be termed an officer's mess. In reality is held replicators and an area with tables and chairs for eating. A larger lounge area could be found adjacent on the port and starboard sides.

Watching the Klingon eat alone, the Starfleet crew observed Ensign Kim greet her easily and then take a seat beside the woman. The interaction between the couple who'd been trapped for days on the Ocampa world together appeared friendly. Lowering their voices allowed Torres and Kim's to carry. A rumour about the Maquis becoming the Chief Engineer now confirmed, they wondered what else they'd learn.

Sighing heavily, Harry knew the reason for the sudden quiet. It didn't make his next request any simpler. "I need your help, B'Elanna," he stated with a heavy sigh. "The Captain want's a proposal on her desk by o seven thirty tomorrow about rationing and I don't have a clue how to start."

"Poor, Starfleet," Torres teased, "never had to go without." Watching the young man's face fall, B'Elanna took pity on him. "Look, things weren't great on _Val Jean_. There were times we didn't even have ration bars and the lighting had to be turned off to half the ship. Out here," looking around, she finally noticed the open ears but eyes glued to plates, "we're on our own, just like we were in the Maquis."

"So how did you do it?" Harry asked, intrigued. "How did you survive?"

"We ate when we could and didn't when things got tough. Your Captain's good," Torres commented, "if she's already considering energy and supply shortages. It's not like we can just dock at a Starbase and resupply. Whatever system you use, rank shouldn't come into it."

"Why?" Harry enquired. This was not the Starfleet way. The higher your rank the more privilege, and conversely responsibility you earnt.

"Because everyone has the right to eat and take a sonic shower. You should really ask Paris for help with this," B'Elanna shrugged. "He was the one who set up our system on _Val Jean_. Things worked a lot better after it was introduced."

"I can't ask Commander Paris," Harry looked aghast. "Besides the Captain gave this project to me."

"Why not?" Smirking, B'Elanna hit her com badge. It was something she'd managed to get use to in a very short amount of time. She'd missed the device more than she realised. "Computer, locate Commander Paris."

"Commander Paris is on Holodeck one," came the disembowelled voice.

"Torres to Paris," she didn't hesitate. A little of her reason was to help Harry. The remainder was to pay the traitor back. Snickering, B'Elanna didn't care about eating into his leisure time.

"Go ahead," he responded, holding a que stick and looking at his wife across the table. She was about to take a shot which would, undoubtedly sink the black in the corner pocket. They were going to share a quiet drink before finally retiring for the night.

"Ensign Kim has some homework set by the Captain that needs to be turned in bright and early tomorrow morning. I thought you might like to help out," B'Elanna mocked.

Looking in askance at Kate, the woman smirked and offered "rationing system" in a whisper.

"Why don't you and Ensign Kim join me on the Holodeck," Tom offered easily. "Paris out."

"Tom," Kathryn warned. She neither wanted to share this precious time with her husband nor make Ensign Kim uncomfortable. Besides, the command structure needed to be maintained.

"I wrote this program to be shared. A place for the crew to come and relax. I think we need it now more than ever," he calmly stated, indicating she should take her shot. "I can even add a sub-routine to allow the EMH to gauge the mood of the crew. So, when you've finished beating the pants off me, let's get a table and wait for Torres and Kim."

"I'm sorry," Ensign Kim stuttered when he noticed the Commander accompanied by his wife, "we didn't mean to interrupt you."

"Take a seat, Harry," Tom swept a hand towards the two chairs on the other side of the table. Using his given name only made the green Ensign more nervous. Deciding Torres was a better target for his mirth, he added, "my wife and I were just relaxing after a double shift, but I'm sure we can spare the time to help you out. B'Elanna, I don't think you've been introduced. This is the woman I never stopped talking about on _Val Jean_. Kate, B'Elanna, B'Elanna, Kate."

If looks to kill, both women would have Mr. Thomas Paris popping up daisies. He didn't seem to follow the rule of Starfleet etiquette. Tom didn't take any notice of either and continued to pretend they were all good friends meeting up at their local bar. He simply smirked good naturedly. "Now, what is this problem that needs such urgent attention."

B'Elanna started when it became obvious Starfleet wouldn't say anything, "As you designed the rationing system on _Val Jean_ , I thought you might be able to give Harry some pointers."

"I think that's my cue to leave." Kathryn attempted to stand, only her husband's arm snaked around her shoulders. Giving him a glare, Tom returned it easily, along with an expression that stated, _this is exactly what I was talking about earlier this evening in our quarters_.

Turning his head, Tom whispered, "stay."

Captain Kathryn Paris did, not only because of the heavy arm holding her down. In her heart she knew her husband was trying to maintain those aspects of her personality she'd lose all to soon if she made her job the only focus in her life. In spite of herself, Mrs. Kate Paris enjoyed the foray into the complexities of Tom's mind as he argued with both Torres and Kim about the rationing system that shouldn't work, but, as time would tell, actually did. Their time on the holodeck had the added bonus of meeting her new Chief Engineer. If she weren't secure in her relationship with Tom, Kathryn would swear there was an attraction between the two.

 _Possibly_ , the Captain analysed, _because we are more alike than I'll ever admit to B'Elanna Torres._


	14. Reality Bites

**Part Fourteen: Reality Bites**

"Well, Ensign Kim," Kathryn smirked at the young man standing to attention in her ready room, "as you discussed this proposal with Commander Paris and Lt. Torres last evening at Sandrine's, do I really need to read it?"

"Ma'am," Harry questioned as he stood straighter, if at all possible. He wasn't quite sure if the Captain was teasing him in that tone of voice. However, last night, meeting _**Kate Paris**_ socially had been awkward but rewarding.

"At ease, Ensign," the Captain tried to hold back a chuckle, "before you strain something. As to this," she waved the PADD in the air, "I think the sooner we get this system into general use the better. I'll have a ship wide communique sent after the Senior Officers briefing. I expect to see you there, representing Operations."

"Yes, Ma'am," Harry nodded, allowing his pleasure to infuse his face at the endorsement.

"That will be all, Ensign," Kathryn dismissed, her grey eyes following the florescent green officer as he returned to the bridge. Unfortunately, the meeting with Harry Kim only highlighted the youth and inexperience of many crew members, some of whom would need to be placed in positions of authority and influence. For many, this mission would be a baptism by fire. _At least I have Tom with me_ , Kathryn mused. _Working together might not be ideal, but he has been in Starfleet for ten years. I'm not sure I really want to know the details concerning his missions but Tom's experiences might just get us through in a tough situation._

Working though the information on several PADD littering her desk, Kathryn sipped her second coffee of the day. All to soon it would exist only in her memory, unless they found new and inventive ways to increase their energy storage capacity, such as establishing communal cooking facilities. Of course, that required fresh organic produce and the only way to ensure a supply would be to grow or collect it, as the first space going vessels did. The advantage of turning carbon dioxide into oxygen would reduce the power needed to run environmental control. A win-win situation for _Voyager_.

"Sometimes I feel like am navigating a maze," the Captain threw down the PADD a moment later in a fit of rage, "one turn leads to three or four more passages, all of which look promising. Each decision effects the ones I've already made, some leading me into a dead end and having to reconsider everything I've already decided."

Ten minutes before the Senior Staff briefing, Tom entered. He noticed the apathetic expression on Kate's face. Approaching her replicator, she watched silently, knowing what he'd do. She got like this when her blood sugars were running low and there was no adrenalin in her system to keep her going. Suddenly, a plate appeared which he dutifully placed before her with cutlery but no accompanying coffee.

"I know you slipped out this morning without breakfast," he frowned menacingly. "I also know you'll work straight though lunch, fortifying yourself with the stimulant you prefer. By the time I see you tonight, you're going to be dead on your feet and complain when I try to feed you. Eat," Tom demanded, pushing the omelette towards his wife.

Grumbling, the infuriating man sat on the other side of her desk and watched every mouthful until she'd finished, maintaining his neutral facade. "Happy," Kathryn scowled.

"Ecstatic," Tom responded in the same manner. Taking the plate to be recycled, he waited for his Captain to proceed into the briefing room via the back corridor. "We both know I wouldn't have to bother, if you just got up ten minutes earlier and ate in our quarters, with me."

"It's hard to change the habits of a life time," Kathryn fired back, feeling less petulant but refusing to let Tom off the hook that easily.

"I seem to recall," Tom mocked, "it wasn't an issue on _Olympia_ when we were first married. That bad habit started after my first Intelligence mission."

Unwilling to grace her husband with an answer, Kathryn Paris strod into the briefing room. Neelix and Kes were waiting for her, which surprised the Captain. Incorporating the Maquis into their ranks yesterday meant she'd not given the pair a thought. Tom ensured the Talaxian's small ship had been resupplied and she assumed they'd left _Voyager_.

"Ah, Captain!" The odd little man seemed irrepressible today. His eyes bright and smile wide, it was a very different individual to the one she'd encountered in Sickbay a few days prior. Somehow the time in between stretched to feel like a month. "We were just coming to see you."

Holding in a sigh, Kathryn felt her husband's calming influence in the form of a hand gracing the middle of her back. "Your ship has been resupplied, Mr. Neelix. It's ready to go."

"Well, you see," the Talexian looked at Harry Kim and Chakotay, who entered from the bridge, "that's what we wanted to discuss. We'd like to go with you."

"I'm sorry. This isn't a passenger vessel," the Captain stated.

"Of course not," offered the softly spoken Ocampan woman. Kathryn had yet to read the full medical report or speak with Kes about her treatment at the hands of Maj Javin. It was information that would be helpful, if any of her crew were caught by the Kazon or decided to defect. "We won't be passengers."

Far to effusive for this time of the morning, Neelix started to ramble. "We'd be valuable colleagues. Whatever you need is what I have to offer. You need a guide? I'm your guide. You need supplies? I know where to procure them. I have friends among races you don't even know exist. You need a cook? Oh, you haven't lived until you've tasted my angla'bosque. It will be my job to anticipate your needs before you know you have them. And I anticipate your first need will be me."

Kes didn't hesitate to cut Neelix off. "Captain," she offered in that delicate voice that said so much with few words, "we both want very much to be a part of your journey. If you don't mind, I've been thinking that you might be able to convert one of your lower decks into a hydroponics bay to grow your own food. I understand that the replicators will soon be down and that the emergency rations won't hold out."

"What about Cargo Bay two?" Harry chimed in. After their discussion last night, he'd been thinking the same. In fact, he'd been unable to sleep until he researched the methods used to feed a crew on the first starships. "It was designed for organic storage and it already has adjustable environmental controls."

"When can you start?" Kathryn asked, the first genuine smile creasing her lips in days. This fitted with her overall plan and solved a lot of problems at the same time. When the young woman looked at her in askance, the Captain stated, "if you're not going to be a passenger, then I need to assign you a role on _Voyager_. This is your idea. It's your project. Oh, how would you feel about taking on some medical training with our EMH. I believe your personality would be well suited to work with the Doctor and the crew would welcome a more feminine approach on occasion."

"The Doctor," Kes looked startled. "I think I'd like that, Captain."

"And you, Mr. Neelix," Kathryn turned her attention to the Talaxian.

"I can do some wonderful things in the kitchen," he enthused. "My feragoit goulash is known across twelve-star systems. Now, not far from here is a planet in the Feragoit system that would trade water for fresh fruits and vegetables. Of course, I'll need somewhere to prepare and cook them."

"Both the Officers and Enlisted mess will need to be fitted out and personnel assigned," Chakotay added. "Chell was a chef before coming on board _Val Jean_. His cooking is Bolian in style but edible. If we're running two mess halls, we will need at least two other crew assigned to those duties."

"Make it so, Mr. Chakotay. Mr. Neelix, speak with Ensign Kim at operations and Lt. Torres in engineering after this meeting," Kathryn dismissed her new civilian consultants, "they will help you get this project started. I want it up and running at the earliest possible moment."

B'Elanna burst through the door in time to here yet another task added to her never-ending list. Still she wanted to get the most pressing matter out of her system before taking on yet more work. Lt. Carey at her side, the fiery Klingon felt as if she were being coddled. Yet Joe had been ordered to escort her everywhere with the aim of teaching B'Elanna Starfleet procedure and protocol.

"Engine efficiency's down fourteen percent," she barked. Torres could head the inward drawing of Carey's breath, meaning she'd screwed up once again.

"Meaning," Tom smirked, using the hand in the middle of his wife's back to indicate she should take a seat so the rest of them could follow the Captain's lead. Lt. Torres wouldn't hold in her concerns, especially about her engines and the Commander didn't want this first staff meeting to disintegrate before starting. "If we don't get more power to the warp drive, we're all going to have to get out and push."

"All right people," Kathryn glanced around before sitting, "we have a lot to get through this morning. As you've brought up engine efficiency Lt. Torres, let's start there. After that, I want to address what supplies can be scavenged from the planet we're now orbiting."

Days turned into weeks more quickly than anyone anticipated. Changes were everywhere and yet things stayed essentially the same. Former Starfleet crew hated the rationing and working with a terrorist partner, former Maquis chaffed at the uniforms and rules. Yet each department's productivity didn't suffer, nothing got past the command team and on the surface the integration seemed to be working our well.

In Engineering, Lt. Carey no longer attended the daily Senior Officers briefings alongside Lt. Torres. B'Elanna had managed to take control easily, although some aspects of protocol and procedure continued to elude her. Her temper was actually the best pancrea towards assimilation in her department. The Maquis, knowing their Chief's irritability conversely cajoled or comforted Starfleet personnel through her, thankfully, decreasing outburst. Together they learn to read, but not react, to her mercurial moods.

The same could not be said of the bridge command crew. Lt. Commander Chakotay dutifully attended his obligations but kept himself apart from the rest of the Senior officers socially. He respectfully stood at Captain Paris's side. On occasion he questioned her decisions or offered other solutions. He often attended meals in her private quarters with Commander Paris and Lt. Commander Tuvok in attendance.

The switch to the Captain's private quarters became necessary when Mr. Neelix turned her secluded dining room into a galley without permission. His cooking was an experience many of the officers dreaded, even after a week of ration packs while getting the kitchens online. With energy supplies decreasing and rationing in effect, every officer had to chance the newly crowned Senior Mess hall at least twice a day. This also helped Maquis and Starfleet crew below decks come to recognise each other. Chell had been tasked with running the General Crew mess on Deck ten. Bolian cooking, it seemed, was not so different from Neelix's creations in the taste department.

"Seska," finally Captain Paris brought up the subject at their morning meeting the third week after being stranded in the Delta quadrant, "is the only individual remaining in the brig. Both Chell and Oden have accepted their part in the riot and agreed to serve a suitable punishment. Under Article 108 (taken from the US military legislation) they will serve as crewmen on half pay for the period of one month. Seska, however, refuses to see her actions as destructive, has confirmed she was the instigator and has declared to do so again given the opportunity. She has declined the offer to join this crew. As such I have no choice but to charge her with wilful destruction of Federation Property under the civilian code. I have given Seska the choice of remaining in _Voyager's_ brig until we reach the Alpha quadrant where she can be tried independently or find a suitable species that will accept her with full disclosure of her crime."

Chakotay had been unaware of these proceedings. He'd attempted to see Seska on one occasion only to have the request gently denied by the Brig's security team. Several former Maquis had come to him with the same story. Finding Chell and Oden after their release, they stated Seska had been kept in a different cell during their incarceration. They'd been treated well but when they asked about their fellow Maquis, the guard stated it was protocol to separate men and women under Federation law.

Angered, Chakotay attempted to swallow the bile rising in his throat at this new information. "I want to speak with her myself," he stated.

"Due to the closeness of your relationship," Tuvok answered before the Captain could, "that is inadvisable at this point, Commander. The case against Seska has been treated with every attention to Starfleet and Federation procedure. She has confirmed her culpability without remorse."

"I don't think you understand," Chakotay attempted to defend his lover, "she's a Maquis, and in the Maquis, sometimes you have to push people out of your way to get things done."

"Seska is no longer a member of the Maquis, and with all due respect, Commander," Tuvok allowed his left eyebrow to rise, "neither are you. Allowing any crew member to get away with a clear violation of regulations sets a bad example. It may appear as though favouritism were demonstrated when we are attempting to achieve an accord between former Maquis and Starfleet personnel."

"That's the problem," Captain Paris stopped the bickering with a wave of her hand. "They're no longer your people, Mr. Chakotay. You're treating the Maquis on this ship like they're still your crew. In your role as First Officer, you are responsible for one hundred and forty-two souls."

"I'm doing everything I can to integrate this crew," he returned heatedly, "but frankly, you're not making it easy for me, Captain."

"I can't make it easy for anyone who does not have the discipline or training, Commander. Surely you can understand that," Kathryn explained. "In this situation, Seska attempted to lead a mutiny, that if successful, might have compromised the Prime directive and the entire reason for destroying the array instead of forcing the Caretaker to send us home. Not to mention the damage that still needs to be repaired on deck four. When I spoke to Seska, at length before making my decision, she cannot see any reason to withhold our replicator and transporter technology from the Kazon, if it grants us safe passage through this region of space. Besides," handing the man a PADD, "I think you will consider this situation from a different perspective when you read the Doctor's report."

Scanning the document, Chakotay was aware of the silence surrounding him. Whatever this device held, Commander Paris and Lt. Commander Tuvok already knew its contents. Feeling left out only increased his anger. It left just as suddenly when he saw the results of a deep DNA scan.

"Chakotay," B'Elanna asked, her voice betraying her concern. With only an expression of betrayal, he handed the PADD to the Engineer. Everyone at the table knew the moment she reached the doctors conclusion when a string of Klingon expletives burst from her mouth.

"That will be enough, Lieutenant," Captain Paris remonstrated, calling for decorum.

"I knew there was a reason I didn't like her," B'Elanna stated with a menacing growl. "I knew they did that, the Cardassian's, I just never expected it would happen on _Val Jean_."

"Let's be grateful," Kathryn sighed heavily, "that our EMH is througher with his physical examinations or this might have been overlooked. It seems Orketts Disease is not a reason for a Bajoran to have Cardassian DNA. All Seska physical attributes have been engineered to hide her true appearance. She will start to display her true physiology within weeks without a supply of Koline to suppress her genetic heritage."

"May I suggest," Tuvok added, "Mr. Chakotay inform those crew who once held an affinity towards the Maquis. I believe, coming from you, the truth will be accepted."

"Chakotay," Kathryn looked with concern towards her first officer.

He nodded slowly. This event had shaken his faith yet he owed it to his former crew to tell them the truth. Not only had his first officer turned out to be Starfleet intelligence, but his lover a Cardassian spy. "Was anyone on _Val Jean_ working for the cause," the man suddenly erupted from his seat.

"I was," B'Elanna chimed in, her eyes watching him pace like a caged tiger.

"No, you weren't," Chakotay placed a hand on the back of Torres chair and lent in close. His words came out harsh. "You've always been working for your engines. That's all you care about. Even here on _Voyager_ , you were seduced within hours."

"That will be enough, Mr. Chakotay," Kathryn stood and asserted her authority with her voice alone. "I will not allow one of my officers to be treated disrespectfully. While I understand this has come as a shock, you are dismissed to your quarters until you can find some perspective."

"Perhaps," Tuvok suggested, his fingers steepled before him, "we should postpone this briefing, Captain."

"Agreed," Kathryn turned to face the window and the star scape beyond. She understood the Tactical officers' reference only too well. Tuvok expected trouble when Seska's true affiliation was revealed. "There is little of importance to be discussed and nothing that can't wait until tomorrow. Dismissed."

After a few minutes, Captain Paris felt the presence of her husband standing behind her, close enough for his body heat to pervade her senses but not close enough to touch. "Don't you have duties?" she demanded, irritated and upset.

"Nothing that can't wait," Tom spoke softly. "And nothing that's more important than the mental health and wellbeing of the Captain." When she continued to stand before the window, Commander Paris turned into a loving husband. "Kate, I'm not going anywhere until you talk to me. Before you argue, I don't care that we're on shift and not in our quarters. Besides, sending me to the brig for insubordination hurts you as much as it gives me the opportunity for a shot at Seska."

She didn't want to, but the comment brought a change in mood. Her heavy thoughts dissipated with her husband's incorrigible behaviour. "I don't know how you manage it, Tom, I really don't. I should, you know." Watching his expression reflected off the clear aluminium, Tom Paris understood his wife's comment. "Throw you in the brig for insubordination. Then again, when I get home tonight, who will feed me and massage my feet?"

"The dilemma of command," he smirked, finally closing the distance between them. Pulling Kate into his embrace, his chin resting on her head, they both watched the universe beyond the window. "And you wonder why I don't want it!"

Pulling away, Kathryn turned to face Tom with a light smile. "Get out of here, Commander, before I change my mind."

"Yes, Ma'am."

 _I don't know how he manages it_ , Kathryn shook her head ruefully, _to infer so much in those two little words. Must be that sexy voice and the rebellious tone that I love so much. Oh, who the hell am I kidding! It's the same one he's used for the last fourteen years to get me into bed._

* * *

Well, I hoped you enjoyed that little ride. We've now been in the Delta quadrant three weeks. Seska has finally raised her ugly head, but will it be for the last time? We're still in Kazon territory but its implied there were at least two planets where supplies could be replaced. I'm interested to know if you want to know about some of the characters, such as Ayala, Hogan, Lon Suder etc. and what they're doing? Let me know.

O


	15. Reflections

**Part Fifteen: Reflections.**

Peace, as a concept is wonderful, but throughout known history, has not lasted very long. The first three days _Voyager_ spent in the Delta quadrant the crew were comatose and on the Caretakers array. The following three, Captain Paris formed an alliance with the Maquis to retrieve Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres, culminating in the loss of _Val Jean,_ addition of Neelix and Kes and finally, the creation of a new enemy. The last fourteen days had been, relatively, peaceful as those two crews attempted to integrate.

Captain Kathryn Paris knew everything was going a little too smoothly. While Neelix and Chell's cooking might not be palatable, it was nutritious. The crew were fed and healthy, if not ecstatic about the fare. The three Kazon attacks had been repulsed easily with little damage to Voyager and no casualties. It gave her inexperienced crew the opportunity to perform under battle conditions, learning from mistakes that wouldn't cause serious damage. They'd found the Feragoita falling over themselves to trade all manner of goods for water, which only furthered Commander Paris's opinion that the liquid was in short supply in this sector. Lt. Torres couldn't be happier. Her stocks of deuterium were at eighty-nine percent and the engine efficiency back to tolerable levels. The replicators were even back on line and they were out of Grey mode. Tuvok's security team had broken up several conflicts between former Maquis and Starfleet crew. Taking their rations and holodeck privileges away soon cooled tempers.

 _Or_ , Kathryn sat on the couch in her Ready room and gazed out at the passing stars, _we've managed to drive the discord underground, making it harder for Tuvok and Tom to uncover what's actually going on._

Sighing while reaching for her fifth cup of coffee, Kathryn contemplated the events of the last three weeks. _Voyager_ was well stocked in terms of energy and fresh produce. The hydroponics bay had been established. Crew rosters and rotations had been tweaked to the point that every major position necessary to run her ship had been filled. They were in great shape, all things considered and wouldn't need to stop for three months, so long as the Kazon continued to do little damage.

"So why am I worrying," Kathryn asked her reflection. Grey eyes noticed the discolouration starting under her orbs from a lack of sleep and weight of command. She barely seen more than her the back of her husband's head as he sat at the con before her, such were their schedules. Even when she managed to get to bed, there was more reports than she had time to read. So far, Tom hadn't complained, overly much. "We've been in this quadrant less than three weeks and it's been smooth sailing."

Niggling at the back of her mind, Kathryn considered each of her senior staff. Tuvok had initially taken a back step as her council with Tom on board, until they needed to address the Seska situation. In that matter, Commander Paris had not been consulted, nor did he seem dissatisfied with the situation, after all, it wasn't his department. Tom appeared happy to play Chief Con officer with the duties assigned that role, leaving him more time for a private life, albeit without his wife's constant company. Chakotay was still an unknow quantity, especially after his behaviour this morning. Then her intellect hit on the problem.

 _I'm sleeping with one of my crew! I'm no different in that regard to Chakotay. How would I react if Tom's loyalties secretly lay with the Maquis,_ it was an alarming thought, because they'd had the conversation about his feelings toward Cardassian's prior to her husband's shipping out to the DMZ. _And there in lays the rub, as Tom would say. He's not just one of my crew, but my husband of ten years. Starfleet have indorsed the relationship by allowing us to serve together on Olympia and Jupiter Station._

 _Yet, Tom took his last mission because both our lives have been devastated by the Cardassian's. I know he sympathises with the cause but he's also spent ten years as an Intelligence operative and can compartmentalise better than me! There is no way he would switch sides. That's not my issue, it's the fraternisation protocols. If I had to choose between Tom and this ship, my crew, I'd be forced to decide against my husband and the father of my son. It's not a situation I ever want to be placed in._

Standing in the conference room this morning after the discussion about Seska, but before her thoughts could turn despondent, before the weight of the decisions she was forced to make every minute of every day overwhelmed her, Tom had sensed her mood and acted to buoy her flagging spirits. Although in uniform and not in their quarters, Commander Paris had consoled her. Mrs. Kate Paris enjoyed the foray while the Captain should have stopped the member of her crew from such overt actions beyond their duties.

"I served on the _Al Batani, Sutherland_ and _Herra_ before marrying," Captain Paris imagined the reflection in the clear aluminium to be her alter ego, Mrs. Kate Paris. In the attempt to make sense of her mixed emotions, she conversed with the woman. "The last two vessels with weekly com's from Tom, more if he could managed it after we were engaged."

"Yes," Mrs. Paris returned unsatisfied. The woman reflected back at her needed reminding of other aspects of their life together. "But then we were both posted to _Olympia_ for four years. We had our fights and arguments, as any newlyweds do. As First Officer, my husband was, technically, under my command. I know Tom's trying to slip back into the patterns we established on that ship. They were comfortable and we were ecstatically happy."

"Everything is different now," the Captain returned, "we're different, older and I hope, wiser. Four years on _Billings_ with only leave and the occasional meeting when our schedules allowed, it was unsatisfactory. We could have grown apart, but we didn't. Which just demonstrates we can maintain our relationship while following our careers."

"Why were you able to remain married, Captain," the wife demanded. "I'll remind you. Mostly because my husband made the sacrifices to meet up with my ship at every opportunity. I was too caught up in chasing the Command Career, only giving Tom the bits that were left, and he excepted that, just as he will now. Finally, I made it and we had eighteen months together on Jupiter station but our positions gave us different vocational paths. Then I lost him again for six months and my life turned upside down. I couldn't just com my husband to hear his voice or see Tom's face. I conceived and carried our son, then was forced to leave him behind. I never want to live through that again. While my husband sticks to the ideals of our agreement, we stay together! Don't even think about changing back to your maiden name, Captain, to maintain your authority, or worse, granting my husband his own quarters. It won't be just Tom that heartbroken by those decisions."

"Do you think," The Captain retaliated crossly, the mere thought of not sleeping in the same bed each night appalling, "when he showed up on my bridge, that I wasn't ecstatic to find out Tom was alive and well. So far, we've had one argument, he's respected my boundaries, personal and professional, mostly."

"Then," the wife asked calmly, "why are you so worried? Tom's only vested interest is me. That man loves too much to do anything to hurt me."

"Maybe the question should be what is it that I'm actually worried about?" Kathryn Paris asked herself morosely. "I know Tom will never take advantage of my position or authority. Am I more concerned I'll make a decision he doesn't agree with and our relationship will suffer, or that Tom will, or worst of all, have to place the needs of my ship above anything else?"

The chime indicated a crew member at her door. Not really wanting to be disturbed, Kathryn stood and straightened out her jacket. "Come," she offered in a terse tone.

"Mr. Chakotay," the Captain smiled but the expression didn't flow to her eyes as her First Officer entered her sanctuary. "What can I do for you."

"I just had the most disconcerting experience," the First Officer stated, still obviously bewildered and more than a little ill at ease.

"How so?" the Captain asked.

"Well, it went something like this…..

"Paris to Chakotay," Tom didn't quite know if he was about to make the worst mistake of his life. He might get Chakotay on side, but it would be at the expense of his personal relationship with Kate, unless he was very careful to obsecrate the truth.

"Go ahead," came the sullen response. In the two hours since the Captain sent him to his quarters, Chakotay couldn't settle enough to call on the bones of his people and find his animal guide for advice. This situation with Seska kept going around in his mind.

"Meet me on holodeck one, Commander," Tom knew now he'd set this action into motion there was no going back. If the Captain found out, he'd be toast. When his wife found out, well, life might not be worth living.

"It this really necessary, Commander," Chakotay demanded, his tone icy.

"I believe so. Paris out." Tom ended the conversation. Technically the highest-ranking officer had that privilege. Only the Captain could cut Tom off, which would annoy the XO. Few understood, in extreme circumstances, he could actually out-rank the Captain and take control of _Voyager_. Technically, he would always be the First Officer, no matter who Captain Paris awarded the position. His clearance was higher than anyone on this ship, including his wife, and therefore his knowledge of Federation Military objectives greater.

It took the reluctant man fifteen minutes to appear. Tom waited patiently. When Chakotay finally entered the Holodeck a level ten omega forcefield had been erected. There would never be any proof of the program or conversation that was about to occur. Shocked, the First Officer found himself on the bridge of a science vessel. As the simulation had been cobbled together quickly, the coding was not as faultless as Tom would have liked. Still it would perform the function he required.

"Where am I," Chakotay asked, before noticing Captain Own Paris in the command chair. The man looked about the same age as in his memory, which would have been fifteen years ago.

"This is the _Al Batani_ ," Tom said softly. "My father held command of this vessel for seven years. At the science station are two young ensign's, six months out of the academy. Their colouring and body shape are similar. One is my sister, Catharine with a C, Cathy Paris. The other will one day be Kathryn with a K, Kate Paris. They are about to start the Arias expedition."

"Captain Paris was captured," Chakotay had a moment of pure clarity, "with a young Ensign from the Science division."

"You know what the Cardassian's do to female prisoners, especially those from the Federation," Tom stated, the anger he experienced just under the surface. The pair watched the bridge crew move around them in silence, observers only in this play. "In this case they did it while a father watched in order to break him. It didn't work but Captain Paris came home a very different man. It was the reason I volunteered for the mission to infiltrate the Maquis. The Cardassian's need to be stopped before there is all out war, before they can destroy the lives of more Federation citizens."

"Why are you telling me this?" Chakotay demanded. In truth, the bile rose in his throat at the crude but very effective torture inflicted on both the young Ensign and Captain.

"This morning you wondered if anyone was working for the cause on _Val Jean_ ," Tom wouldn't give the man the pleasure of watching his expression. Head facing the forward screen, his words came out through clenched teeth. "Well, I was, just from a different perspective. Don't ever question my loyalty while I served with you again, Chakotay. Nor that of my wife here on _Voyager_ , because she'll give everything she has, destroy herself to get this crew home. In fact, she's started already."

"Kate has lived through effects of my father's torture on our family, on me," Tom stated aggressively. "There are some nights when the memories of the monster who came home still haunt me. Of the tears a young woman cried for years, trying to forget what happened to her. Kate knows the cost and will work until everyone on this ship is reunited with their families, and that includes you and the other former Maquis."

Swallowing hard, Chakotay didn't want to understand or feel for the young man at his side. Hogan had been through something similar but spoke of it more openly, his eyes blazing with hate. His sister had died when the Cardassian who continued to favoure her discovered her pregnancy. "Your allegiance now," the first officer had to asked.

"I'm a Starfleet Intelligence Officer with ten years field experience. You taught Advanced Tactics, you know what that means. This wasn't my first foray into Cardassian territory," Tom grunted, while backing towards the arch. "Don't you dare tell my wife, even she doesn't have the clearance to open most of my file. My allegiance is to Kate first, my Captain second and the prime directive third. Beyond that," shrugging, "you're all in the same basket. Remember what I've told you, Chakotay, especially when Kate needs you the most."

"Paris," before the word was out of his mouth, Tom had disappeared through the arch. However, Lt. Commander Chakotay couldn't help wondering what more there was to the situation, what ideas were running through the Commander's mind.

Shocked, Kathryn Paris slumped into her couch. Inviting Chakotay to join her, grey eyes turned icy. "What do you think Commander Paris meant?"

"Honestly," he looked aggrieved, "I have no idea, but get the feeling its related to Seska."

Nodding, Kathryn wondered what to do. Obviously, her husband had protected her privacy, leading Chakotay to believe Cathy Paris had been captured with her father. No one would ever be able to corroborate which Ensign had been taken. The file was still sealed. Still, she'd been considering just this situation prior to her First Officer's visit. Tom had gone behind her back and acted without orders, opening their personal and professional lives to Chakotay.

"Captain to Tuvok," Kathryn made one of her famous decisions.

"Yes, Captain," the Vulcan answered.

"Please come to my ready room," Kathryn ordered.

Out of the corner of her eye, the Captain noticed Chakotay's reaction. It seemed he'd taken Tom's words to heart. The second major shock in a single day had the man reeling. Yet, Commander Paris had set up the perfect opportunity to get her First Officer on side. Now all she had to do was court him properly, and at her husband's expense. Perhaps there was nothing more to this scenario than Tom creating an opportunity to get the Maquis leaders loyalty.

"You wished to see me, Captain?" Tuvok asked after being granted entry. An eyebrow rose at the physical closeness between his Captain and her First officer, especially after the Senior staff meeting this morning.

"Mr. Chakotay," Kathryn crossed her legs towards the former Maquis Captain, opening her body language, "would you please repeat the conversation you had with Commander Paris on the Holodeck."

For the second time, the First Officer told his story. "I'm beginning to feel like a traitor," he stated, "Paris didn't want me to tell you, Captain, let alone _Voyager's_ security officer. I checked the logs and nothing has been recorded. There is no evidence of our meeting."

"Commander Paris is an Intelligence officer," Tuvok stated, as if that were all that needed saying.

"Meaning he has the ability to hold clandestine conversations on the holodeck," Chakotay asked, more than a little annoyed.

"Or anywhere on _Voyager_ he deems fit. The question is," Tuvok stated rationally, "not what Commander Paris stated, but what he is eluding too. Mr. Paris is a ten-year veteran in Intelligence, used to undertaking highly dangerous mission, often alone and at the highest levels of confidence. You believe he is planning something, an event that will leave his wife be fret of his company?"

"That's the way it sounded to me," Chakotay agreed.

"Captain, in this instance, you know Mr. Paris better than any of us," Tuvok turned on the woman. "What are your thoughts?"

"Honestly, Tuvok," Kathryn sighed, "I have no idea. Even Admiral Paris couldn't open most of Tom's file, nor could we establish if he was alive or dead before both being called into Starfleet HQ prior to this mission."

"I have given Commander Paris's position much thought," Tuvok sounded aggrieved, "and logically concluded he is the one individual on this vessel capable of a single handed and successful mutiny." Watching his long-time friend, Kathryn pursed her lips but didn't interrupt. "Captain, I have known your husband ten years and do not believe it is within his nature unless pushed to do so. However, the risk is considerable under the correct circumstance. Mr. Paris was at your side for the entire commissioning of _Voyager_. His position and level of security clearance allow him access to the Command codes. Added to Mr. Paris's ability to hold clandestine meetings, my level of concern has increased."

"Agreed," Kathryn said, pushing herself from the couch and pacing. "The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

"May I suggest," Chakotay began, before the ship rocked. Seated, he fared well.

Captain Paris wasn't so lucky. She crashed into the banister separating the sitting area from her desk. Managing to remain upright by hanging onto the railing, Tuvok tottered before catching himself. All three officers rushed to the bridge. Commander Paris stood in the middle of the trilevel area issuing orders.

"Report," the Captain barked, coming to relieve him.

"We're run into some kind of spatial distortion," the Ensign at the science station reported.

"Mr. Tuvok!" Kathryn knew the Vulcan would have taken over his tactical station.

"The distortion is emanating from a highly localized area in the space-time continuum." Concentrating on the readouts, he informed, "distance, twenty thousand kilometres off the port bow."

Without being told, Tom vacated the command chair for the Captain and First Officer. Crewman Grimes stood from the Con, offering the position to his senior. Commander Paris didn't hesitate to take the seat before his fingers danced over the keyboard and the ship evened out.

It didn't take long to uncover that _Voyager_ was trapped in a singularity. Between Captain Paris and Lt. Torres they formed a plan to find the opening and widen the point of entry. While Tom offered his services to fly the shuttle, the Captain chose B'Elanna to accompany her. It spoke volumes about the trust Kathryn now placed in her Chief Engineer.

"Commander Chakotay, report," the Captain demanded the moment she entered the bridge at the conclusion of her away mission.

"We're almost to the rupture," Chakotay offered, before allowing his tone to turn sardonic. "Mr. Paris is about to impress us with his piloting skills."

"The rupture's collapsing," Ensign Kim shouted from operations. "It's down to one hundred ten metres wide."

"In command school, they taught us to always remember that manoeuvring a starship is a very delicate process," Kathryn stood with hands on her hips and a smile playing about her lips. Lt. Torres had only voiced the opinion in the minds of many of the bridge crew when she suggested they wouldn't make it. However, the Captain was sure of two things. Their helmsmen was the best Starfleet had to offer, and her ship would make it back out into real space. "Over the years I've learned that sometimes you just have to punch your way through. Mr. Paris, full impulse power."

Voyager approached the rift. Turbulence increased knocking several crew members off their feet. At the helm, Tom held steady, marking down the distance. His concentration was devoted to his panel and the screen before him.

"I'm losing power to the port impulse engine," Commander Paris called. Harry switched to auxiliary power. While Tuvok commented on the hull integrity failing. Tom expected nothing less from this crew who were becoming cohesive and battle hardened.

"Keep it together, Mr. Paris," the Captain commanded, her eyes never leaving the main screen. Never would she show weakness on the bridge; however, her move had been more than bold and Kathryn Paris held her insecurities and doubts rigidly behind a mask of determination. It proved successful as Voyager ejected into normal space and she was able to silently sigh.

"We've cleared the event horizon, Captain," Tuvok's tone could be misconstrued for relief.

"Sometimes you just have to punch your way through," Tom turned around, facing his wife with a wide grin. "I'll have to remember that one."

"Set a course, Mr. Paris. I want to be at least one hundred million kilometres away from the singularity before we begin repairs," Kathryn ordered. "Then hand the con to Mr. Grimes and I'll see you in my ready room."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom responded with his usual aplomb. Yet he'd read the subtle anger in her tone. It seemed Chakotay had taken the bate and gone straight to the Captain. One look towards the tactical station and Commander Paris understood Tuvok had also been informed.

 _Life's about to get tough, Tom old boy_ , Paris considered his options miserably. _Not that you haven't planned it this way. I just hope Kate understands. If not, it looks like I might be requisitioning new quarters. Wont the crew just love that gossip. Not even three weeks and the Captain has already kicked her husband to the curb. Still, nothing better for bringing out the Maquis who aren't fitting in and the Starfleet personal that have grudges against anyone in Intelligence._


	16. Confrontation

**Part Sixteen: Confrontation.**

 **AN:** a shorter chapter, you might say a filler. It's been almost a week since I published, I wanted to get something out to you. Life's been a little hectic recently, I hope I have time to write in the next few days.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Kathryn demanded of her Intelligence Officer the moment the doors to her ready room closed. Standing tall and ridged while facing the window, she watched the man's reflection as he ever so casually sauntered towards her. Both understood to what the question pertained.

Placing his hands in an at ease position behind his back, Tom continued up the two stairs, coming to rest within a few centimetres of his wife. He didn't need to be told Kate was furious, her body language shouted it. Shrugging, Commander Paris knew she was observing his every movement and expression, both as his commanding officer and his wife. The dichotomy was crushing her, but with their new roles and responsibilities, it was inevitable.

"What do you want me to say?" Tom spoke evenly, maintaining a calm outward exterior while internally he felt terrified. There was more at stake than their personal relationship and he needed his wife to see that, he needed the Captain to know it. "Who am I speaking with? In this ready room, it should be Captain Paris."

Pivoting, Kate lifted her hand and struck Tom across the cheek. She'd never hit anyone in her life, she'd never been angry enough. "You had no right," she fumed, immediately contrite but still seething. "How dare you! You had no right at sixteen, breaking into my confidential files and you have even less now."

"That," Tom remained infuriatingly composed, not moving a muscle at her sudden and out of character violence, "depends on your point of view."

"And what point of view," the Captain spat, eyes glittering, "am I supposed to be seeing?"

"What do you want to see?" Tom responded serenely, his blues eyes locked on her grey orbs.

"DO NOT PLAY THIS GAME WITH ME," Kathryn's tone became quiet and deadly. For the first time in their long and complex history, she couldn't read him, couldn't reach that part of Tom she'd always known and loved. The soft, ridiculous, incorrigible child-man that would bend to her will more often than not. Neither the Captain nor the wife had any idea what was going on in Commander Thomas Eugene Paris's mind and it petrified both women. They had never seen Tom this determined, professional and indifferent.

"I'm not playing any games with you," Tom continued in that placid tone, however his orbs shimmered as if chips of glacial ice. "I'm going my job, I'm protecting my wife, my Captain, her crew, this ship and the Prime Directive, in that order. I'm trained to use methods you don't want to know about, Captain. I have been granted an office by the Tactical Officer as fits my rank and position with the requirements dictated by Starfleet protocols. I'm not going to ask for permission to speak freely, because in extreme circumstances, and believe me it will come to that in the next few months, you're the one who might just be asking me. This tactic, it is just delaying the inevitable long enough for _Voyager_ to survive what's coming."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Kathryn demanded.

"Article 3, section 56, subsection 2," Tom stated, his voice remaining calm even if his body language had deteriorated to self-loathing. "I am acting under my own command in accordance with Starfleet Intelligence procedures on your vessel. I do not answer to anyone, even you, Capt. Paris, in matters that pertain to my current mission. I believe it will be better if you have the Quartermaster grant me my own lodgings from this point on and have me placed on the Gamma watch in opposition to you. That means I will lose the ability to pilot _Voyager_ being the highest-ranking officer on that duty shift, and as such I will need to take the bridge. I will be returning to my Intelligence uniform until I am satisfied any danger to this crew has ended. These changes will cause gossip, but that can't be avoided. Otherwise, I'll use my office if you don't want this all over _Voyager_ in a matter of minutes. Am I dismissed, Captain?"

"You are not," Kathryn's ire suddenly left her. Sighing, she almost fell onto the couch. She understood her husband's ultimatum only too well. His speech made the Captain understand Commander Paris was under as much strain as she, that there was information Tom wouldn't share, even with his superior officer. His off-duty hours, obviously, were not spent in trivial pursuits but watching and assessing the crew. Suddenly, she had the notion that Tuvok not only knew about this, but was actively aiding Commander Paris with his endeavours. It made sense, the Tactical/Security Officer and the Intelligence Operative working together. Captain Paris just hated the fact she'd been left out of the loop for her own preservation. "Tom, what's happening to us?"

"I'm sorry, Captain," he responded, remaining stock still watching her every move. Tom hated himself, but he had to play by the rules the Captain had set. It was in the best interests of everyone, except himself.

"Just his afternoon," Kathryn offered in a strange turn of personality, as if speaking to herself while once again angling her body to look out of the window apathetically, "or was it yesterday, I've lost time with the spatial distortion." Waving her hand in the air as if it really didn't matter, two hearts shattered in tandem at the listlessness of her reaction. This was not the woman either of them knew. "I sat in this very spot with a cup of coffee and had a conversation with myself. Captain Kathryn Paris of the Starship _Voyager_ in dialogue with Mrs. Kate Paris, loving wife of Tom for over ten years. You know what?" She turned suddenly, rising gracefully and facing the man before her, toe to toe. The look in her grey eyes softening as she reached out and touched the red mark on her husband's cheek, even though she only came up to his chin. Both knew it to be an apology. "They agreed on two things. I will never revert to my maiden name and I won't drive my husband away as I almost did when I served on _Billings_ , chasing that never-ending promotion, almost playing the ultimate price of everything important to me. I want to be seen as a woman, your wife, and I hope, one day a mother to our son and other children. My career is important to me, especially in this situation, but no more so than my heart. I'm going to get this ship home, if only for the very selfish reason of reuniting my own family."

It was the one card both the Captain and the Wife could play that would affect Tom to his very core. And use it she did. The moment the words were out of her mouth, he took in a ragged breath. Their son lay between them, the child he'd wanted for six years. The child forming the main reason Commander Tom Paris would do anything to ensure they returned to the Alpha quadrant.

"No, don't say anything," she allowed the fingers to travel to his lips, resting them there lightly and using a voice just as soft and tender. "I know what you doing and why. I understand what lies ahead and how difficult it will be for all of us. Chakotay is being courted in every way you have allowed. The Maquis will take a little longer without Seska's influence to plan and carryout an uprising. As the Captain, I'm proud you've placed yourself in this position, to protect every single person on this ship. As your wife, I'm furious but understand why you've done this terrible thing, betrayed my trust without really doing it. There are somethings that are just more important, that I want to get home for."

"Your request for new quarters is denied, Commander. If you attempt to sleep in your office, I'll join you. As your wife, I demand some small part of you, even if it is only in our quarters during the middle of the night as we pass between shift. You have permission to serve on the Gamma shift if the change is congruent with your current mission as an Intelligence Operative, however I would prefer you didn't on a personal level. I will not have a member of my crew out of standard uniform, the lack of pips on your collar, Commander, is enough for every member of this vessel to know your true affiliation."

"Kate," Tom's hand delicately moved her wrist while his eyes pleaded for forgiveness.

"We can get thought this Tom," Kathryn stated, finally allowing him the freedom to speak. "As you told Chakotay, we've each faced our daemons and passed those trials, even if they still haunt us on occasion."

"You're making this harder than it needs to be," he commented morosely. "If you can see what I'm doing, this will be no harder than it was on _Billings_ , with us working apart. When it's all over, there will be time for us to heal from this."

"I'm breaking my own rule and telling you how I feel," Kate responded with a sad smile, "even if I'm as mad as hell at you for being so selfless. This is no easier for me, Tom, living between two women with vastly different perspectives and having to make compromises. But you were right when you said I need to keep a part of me, that part which is dependent on our relationship to maintain my sanity when the rest of the universe seems to be driving me mad. But, you need to do the same. You can't be just an Intelligence officer when your also my husband. Out here, alone, we need each other more than ever. Maybe that's why fate managed to get us on the same ship. We need to learn to manage a relationship of four people with competing needs, instead of the traditional two."

Sighing, Tom offered, "we'll speak more about this tonight, in my office."

"No, you can erect a forcefield around out quarters as easily as your office if what needs to be said is classified or highly personal. Now you are dismissed, Commander," Kathryn watched him leave, not sure exactly what just happened or how Tom felt after she'd pulled all her emotional punches. A shiver of apprehension cursed through her as she wondered what the future would bring. Something told her that worry had been a premonition of things to come.

Unable to face her crew, Captain Paris remained in her ready room reading reports. Something drew her to the overlooked medical account of Kes's incarceration with the Kazon. It proved they'd caused her physical trauma in the attempt to uncover a way into the Ocampa underground City. Unlike the Cardassian's they hadn't resorted to more intimate forms of persuasion. While they seemed to treat women as second-class citizens in general, they had enough intellect to understand their sects couldn't increase their population, often decimated by constant internal clashes, without their spouse's cooperation. As such, women were sequestered on the home words and guarded well.

"Interesting," Kathryn pondered this aspect of the Kazon culture and wondered if it was just the Ogla who thought this way. "We know so little about the people of this quadrant."

With that thought, Captain Paris hit her com badge and called for Neelix to attend her ready room. She needed to prepare for what lay ahead. They had a long way to go, and the Talaxian's knowledge might be their only saving grace. It was only after a sleepy voice answered, that Kathryn thought to look at the time. It was close to o four hundred and she'd woken Neelix.

 _Just because I work around the clock in a crisis_ , the Captain grumbled, _doesn't mean the entire crew needs to. On yellow alert only half the members are at their stations for double shifts. As soon as the repairs are started, I think it might be time to take a break and track down my resistant husband to continue our little chat._

Exiting from the Ready room, onto the bridge, Tom exited beside the Tactical station. His blue gaze flicking to the Vulcan Officer manning the station. They had been on yellow alert for the last sixteen hours, yet Tuvok didn't looked as exhausted as Tom Paris felt.

"Commander," offered the Security officer with the usual rise of his left eyebrow. Although his face remained impassive, the impression of worry seemed to cloud the man.

"Tuvok," Tom acknowledged with a half-smile.

With that exchange, Commander Paris knew he had the complete support of at least one senior officer. A fortnight previously, they had met in Tuvok's office and discussed the future of _Voyager_ , with regard to a Maquis insurrection both knew would eventuate. They laid down plans to combat Chakotay, force his loyalties towards the Captain and discussed the future of Seska. They'd agreed to co-author a holoprogram with every possibility and explore them in the coming weeks. The only incident not discussed with the Tactical officer had been Tom's discussion with Chakotay on the Holodeck. The Intelligence officer in Commander Paris comprehended Tuvok inferring the truth from the _Al Batani_ scene because of his close relationship with the Captain. They had served together for more than twenty years and Kate had Tuvok as an academy lecture.

"Commander Chakotay," Tom stepped on the bridge's mid-level beside the First officer. "I have run some changes to the Con rosters by the Captain. I'll send you a copy for your approval."

Acknowledging the comment, Chakotay watched Tom Paris exit the bridge. With the defeated look on the younger mans face, he couldn't decide if it demonstrated the Captain's determination to control every aspect of her ship and crew, or the Intelligence Officers playing a very dangerous game. The answer arrived an hour. Kathryn Paris remained in her ready room while Commander Paris, logged onto his personal account in the Captains quarters, requested the First Officer accept the changes to the Con rosters.

 _This_ , Chakotay contemplated, _hasn't driven a wedge between them, yet, but the cracks are showing. Think it's time Ayala and I had a little chat._

* * *

 **AN:** I'm making some assumptions here. As a Nurse, our hours for shifts are relatively set unless you work in some obscure unit. I have read up on Naval working habits in the Australian and American Navy. They seem to be congruent so I will use this system for the rest of my Voyager stories. Watches are split up into either 2, 4 or 6-hour allotments with 4 being the most common, commencing at midnight. As cannon seems to split Voyager's shifts into Alpha, Beta and Gamma, I'm going to assume that Gamma is 0000-0800 with two minor watches, Alpha is 0800-1600 and Beta is 1600-0000. Not really that important in the grand scheme of things, except to my need for practicality in


	17. Maquis Again

**Part Seventeen: Maquis Movement**

 **AN:** We're going to take a little break from Tom and Kathryn Paris to see what the rest of the crew are up to, especially the former Maquis.

* * *

"Ayala," the former Maquis Captain slid into a seat beside the now Starfleet attired Ensign at one of the tables in the Officers Mess.

Chakotay, like Tuvok, remained on the bridge until the end of the Gamma shift, with Captain Pairs not stirring from her ready room after dressing down her husband. _Voyager_ , now one hundred thousand kilometres from the singularity, had repairs well underway. After another twenty-four-hour duty shift during a crisis, the First Officer was partaking of a cup of tea before retiring for a well-earned rest. However, he wanted to check in with the man he considered his right hand before retiring. Chakotay's responsibilities as First Officer were placing him further and further from the people he most needed to consult.

"Commander," offered Mike in reply with a sly smirk playing about his mobile lips. The quick nod of his head and gleam in his eyes sent a silent response to the unasked question. They would need to meet later and discuss their former crewmates.

"Has anyone come to you," the First Officer requested in a quiet tone laced with innuendo, "with problems or issues?"

Shrugging easily, Mike answered. "A few. Mostly unable to live with the protocol. Nothing I couldn't handle."

"I'm glad," Chakotay gave a disarming smile. "How about an old-fashioned tennis match after your shift? All this easy living is making us lazy."

"Seventeen hundred?" Ayala waited for conformation. "I know Dalby and O'Conner would like to play doubles. Hogan's not much for ball sports, but he'll come to cheer us on."

"Any one else?" Chakotay asked.

"Some," Mike once again shrugged, "but they have the Beta shift. Maybe next time?"

"You're on," Chakotay turned the smile into a short chuckle, before rising with his cup and bidding the Ensign farewell.

Sauntering back to his quarters via the turbolift, the First Officer mulled over the facts he'd learnt since taking up his position on _Voyager_. Whatever occurred in the Captain's Ready room a few hours previously, it hadn't changed the fact Kathryn and Tom Paris were still sharing quarters. True, the cracks were starting to appear under the pressure caused by being married and both in command positions. With the changes Commander Paris made to the Con rosters they would be on different shifts for the next month giving the pair little time together as a couple. With Captain Paris constantly on duty from the start of Alpha shift to the crew change to Gamma, alterations to the Con really wouldn't make that much difference. Commander Paris had chosen the second Beta and first Gamma watch, giving Tom control of the bridge as the most senior officer.

 _They are the times_ , Chakotay suddenly realised, _that neither Ayala nor I are on duty. If I remain on the bridge, it's only for the first few hours of the Beta shift. Between Ayala and myself, we try to make time for the former Maquis crew to contact one of us at every hour of the day. Torres is a lousy stand in. Those engines have all her attention, just as Commander Paris intended. I'm not even sure she'd be interested in taking over the ship. I've had to warn her about the number of hours she works and force B'Elanna to take a day off._

 _Who am I trying to convince._ _ **I'm**_ _not sure mutiny is such a good idea. Kathryn Paris_ _ **is**_ _a good Captain, even if her approach is a little unconventional. I knew that even before her husband accosted me on the holodeck. If anyone can get us home, it's that woman. Which means, we need to lay in wait until Voyager is close enough to the Alpha quadrant and take the ship for the Maquis. We can dump this Starfleet crew on some M class planet and let them call the Federation for help. I'd like to be at her trial, when Captain Paris explains how she lost Voyager to the Maquis!_

This decided, Chakotay fell into a deep slumber. On the Alpha shift, Ensign Mike Ayala joined his partner, crewman Chris Hanna for a shift in the brig. Technically Ayala was the senior officer, however, he'd not yet earnt the trust of Mr. Tuvok. Yet this assignment proved his status was increasing in the Vulcan Security Officers estimation. Hanna was another matter altogether. Although they worked well together, Ayala remained stoic, as was his nature.

"Ayala," Chris greeted the well-built man, before returning to reading the previous shifts log entries. "Looks like our prisoner has had a quiet night."

Nodding his only answer, Mike took up his station. Glaring into the cell, he noticed Seska's skin had taken on a grey hue. The diamond shaped indentation in the middle of her forehead was starting to show. Gone were the Bajoran nose ridges and her eyes had become sunken with the overhanging brow. She looked more Cardassian now. Even the menacing glare in her eyes proved her personality was transforming with her appearance.

"What are you looking at Ayala?" Seska demanded with a low growl.

Seska hated living in a fish bowl, where the security officers could watch her whenever they chose. Even the personal hygiene room wasn't completely private. The Cardassian in her riled at the insult, watching and waiting for her chance at revenge. She knew it to be a sad hope at best. Her energies were best put to better uses. After all, she'd formed an alliance of sorts with Maj Jabin of the Kazon-Ogla. They'd attacked _Voyager_ above that dust ball the Ocampa called home without touching _Val Jean_. If Chakotay hadn't been so spineless and left Torres to her fate on the Federation ship, they'd now be parsecs away, possibly in the Alpha quadrant with the aid of the Caretaker and the Kazon would have replicators and transporters. With the Ogla's new abilities, and her advice, they would have ruled this sector and she'd be lightyears close to Cardassia Prime if they'd be forced to remain in this wasteland.

A slow smile crept onto Mike's lips, which infuriated the woman behind the force field. He could almost read the very subtle reactions crossing her closed expression. They'd been on the same ship for almost three years. Ayala took an instant dislike to Seska when she came aboard _Liberty_. He liked her ever less when Locarno started pointing out her inconsistent behaviour on _Val Jean_. Her sudden relationship with Chakotay was the final straw. He'd been watching her closely, his instincts on high alert but she'd been careful enough not to leave proof of her true allegiance.

"I should have known," Seska spat, crossing her arms over her chest and taking up a defensive stance, "with your Starfleet training you'd roll over. You and Chakotay are the same. Neither of you have the courage to go against your precious Prime Directive, even though you're not in Starfleet anymore."

Ayala stepped closer to the cell and felt Hanna's gaze narrow onto him. Still he remained silent, his posture relaxed and a smirk on his face. Seska had never known how to take him and it worked in Mike's favour.

"You know, we could have been back in the Alpha quadrant," the woman teased, "if Captain Paris hadn't destroyed the array. It's not as if the Prime Directive applied in this situation. Think about it, if _Voyager_ and _Val Jean_ hadn't been dragged half way across the galaxy, the Caretaker would have died a natural death. The Ogla would have found a way into the Ocampan city and onto the array making them the most powerful sect in this region of space."

"So, giving them transporter and replicator technology would achieve the same goal?" Ayala asked, his tone remaining furiatingly soft and low.

"You would have been back in the arms of your wife, playing with your sons," Seska tormented. "Now you have the next seventy-five years to imagine who Mala ran to for comfort."

Taking a step closer to the cell, Mike's smile widened. He had not been affected by the taunt, at least outwardly. "It was always a possibility in the Maquis, that I wouldn't come home. Mala and my boys knew it. We all took the risks gladly. Well, maybe except for you. This," Ayala pointed to her now grey skin and other physiological changes, "explains a lot. You know, Locarno, or Paris, wasn't wrong about you."

"That traitor," Seska smirked. "I knew there was a Federation spy in the Maquis. I'd been searching for months."

"And he was right under you nose," Mike snickered. "There's an old saying, Seska, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. It must have been a trial for Chakotay to sleep with you, to pretend to be your lover when he despised you as much as the rest of us."

Her eyes narrowing, Ayala turned and marched back to the Security desk without waiting for Seska's venomous response. His display had been as much for Hanna's benefit as the Cardassian infiltrator. He wasn't above planting the idea that he, Paris and Chakotay had suspected Seska's loyalties for many months. His quiet demeanour allowed the big man to stand in plain sight, listening to everything going on around him. The fact he'd made it through Starfleet Academy bespoke his intelligence, which was often overlooked and undervalued.

Right now, Michael Ayala knew it was not time for a mutiny. If he and Chakotay hadn't been truly accepted into the officer's confidences, then the crew members would take even longer to warm to the former Maquis draftees. Most of his friends were having problems adjusting to the strict rules and regulations. There hadn't been a day when at least two former Maquis approached him with some problem or the other. Chakotay schedule left little time and his position as First Officer had become intimidating to his former crew, especially as he now had one hundred and twenty odd Fleeter to manage. Torres had taken to protocol as if born to it, probably because she was the head of her department and therefore made many of the rules. B'Elanna worked sixteen to twenty-hour days, getting to know her engines as if they were her babies. It hadn't been any different on _Liberty_ or _Val Jean_. Few would have approached her in the Maquis with their problems, they were even less likely to on _Voyager_.

 _Which leaves me_ , Mike sighed internally. _Hogan and Seska were the only others who'd served with the Maquis for any length of time and had Chakotay's trust. Seska's showed her true colours. While Hogan's a great guy, he's not the engineer that Torres is and not officer material. He's the only one I haven't heard a complaint from. It seems working in Engineering with B'Elanna has been a protective factor for those Maquis she demanded join_ _ **her**_ _crew._

 _I can finally see the similarities between Torres and Captain Paris. Both women are determined, intelligent, focused and as stubborn as hell. I can understand why Paris formed a close bond with Torres while undercover, she must have reminded him of his wife. With B'Elanna's sense of honour, even if she declares everything Klingon is worthless posturing, she'd never go after a married man. Besides, the Captain doesn't seem the jealous type, probably because she's so secure in her relationship with Paris. While serving together might cause some problems, I get the feeling it will never break their personal bond._

 _Which leaves the Maquis where? The time's not right to take command of Voyager. Our crew don't have the access or knowledge they need. We need to wait for a time when were closer to the Alpha quadrant. I hope Chakotay's come to the same conclusion. Maybe together we can convince the others, especially when I tell them about Seska's duplicity. We might have used the tactic of laying low while a Federation vessel was attacked by the Cardassian's, but to withhold help when Voyager was being attacked by the Kazon is vindictive, especially when we are the only Alpha quadrant ships within seventy thousand light years._

The remainder of the watch passed easily if not quickly. Between them, Hanna and Ayala passed a dozen words before their relief came. They separated at the turbolift, Hanna heading to the Enlisted mess on deck ten, and Ayala to send an invitation to the tennis match this afternoon to Hogan, Dalby and O'Conner.

Chakotay woke to the sound of his alarm at sixteen thirty hours. It gave him time for a replicated cup of tea before changing into shorts and a t-shirt and proceeding to the holodeck. He'd booked two hours under his name. When he entered, a tennis program was running. Faced with seventeen former Maquis, word had obviously spread quickly and easily. It was something Chakotay would have to remember.

"Chell wants to play the winner," Bandera shouted over the sound of a ball being hit between protagonists. "He asked if the next match could be held after his shift is over."

"Sure," Chakotay smiled easily. It felt good to be with so many of his former crew in this environment. On the rare occasion they put down for major repairs, the crew were granted Liberty. Even then, they tended to stay close.

"Chakotay," Ayala called the man over to the group surrounding him. As the match continued, the rest gathered around, understanding something important was going down. It didn't take Mike long to rehash the conversation he'd had with Seska that morning. To say the crow had turned against the woman was an understatement. They now considered her worse than Locarno who turned out to be Commander Paris, a Federation plant.

"She was going to let the Kazon destroy _Voyager_ and leave them with Federation technology?" Chakotay asked, after holding up a hand for silence. He needed to be sure he'd understood Mike Ayala's information.

"Yes, and still would, if she's able to get out of the brig," Ayala offered.

"Let me at her," Dalby growled.

"No," Chakotay responded. Only yesterday he'd leant of Seska's future. He took the time to inform those present that she was to be tried under Federation Law once the reached the Alpha quadrant as Seska had refused to join the crew of _Voyager_.

"She's going to spend the next however many years it takes to get home in the brig?" Demanded Dana Hallows, the only female to attend their impromptu meeting.

"Captain Paris has offered to put Seska off with any species willing to take her after full disclosure of her crimes," Chakotay offered.

"What crimes?" Lon Suder asked in his usual monotone. "I can't see anything, besides being a Cardassian spy that would interest the Maquis."

Many voices rose to agree. Chakotay called for quiet, and they crowd turned towards him. "We agreed to serve on a Starfleet vessel, under Starfleet regulations. Therefore, destruction of Federation property is considered an offence. Chell and Oden have been punished for their part in the aborted mutiny and the matter is now considered closed."

This brought several murmurs. Initially, when the two men had been released, it caused friction but didn't break out into dissention between the two crews, most probably because _Voyager_ was scrambling to get a far away from the Kazon as possible. That both took their punishment easily, getting on with their assigned tasks had helped. A few grumbled that Chell should still be locked up for his cooking. Ayala, for once, silenced everyone with his quip about Neelix's creations and he'd swap places anytime they wanted Leola root. At least Chell refused to serve the Delta quadrant vegetable in the enlisted mess.

"I think we should schedule tennis matches every ten days, rotating through the shifts," Chakotay brought the meeting to a close fifteen minutes before his time was up. He didn't want everyone leaving together. It would create a spectacle and the First Officer didn't want Tuvok or Paris discovering their covert gathering. "Either Ayala or I will be here. I want to hear anything, know what's going on in your sections. Ayala will keep us updated on Seska but I want you all to continue doing what you're doing. Integrate, make friends, get to know your positions, take on responsibilities. When the time is right, we'll move."

"What about the Kazon?" demanded one voice that sounded like Jonas.

"There's a reason Seska approached them," Mike Ayala stated in a low growl. "They're as bad as the Cardassian's. If we give them what they want, the people in this sector will be little better off than your families in the DMZ. Prime Directive aside, do you really want to create another Cardassia Prime?"

On that thought, the meeting disbanded. Leaving in groups of two and three, they talked about the match between Dalby and O'Conner. The former had lost in straight sets. They looked forward to the next scheduled match between Chell and Hogan, who seemed more evenly matched. It seemed Hogan had kept his talent for the sport hidden.

In the holoprogramming lab, Commander Paris sat and observed. He'd known of Chakotay's meeting with Ayala this morning through Neelix. The Talaxian continued to be verbally incompetent, giving away valuable information to the Intelligence operative without knowing. It hadn't taken Tom long to find the Holodeck booking and arrange to use the Hololab at the same time. Watching while fine turning the enhancements to the Sandrine's program, he added in coding to pick up particular words and phrases, sending the alerts to his computer terminal in his office. He wanted to be ready for very eventuality, even though the chance of mutiny by Chakotay was statically decreasing. The chance of Seska's escaping had significantly increased. Tom needed to stop any attempt to break her out of the brig. If she managed to contact or join the Kazon, _Voyager_ would be in trouble. Cardassian tactics with Seska's knowledge of Federation technology and protocols wouldn't end well.

"Paris to Captain Paris," he comm'ed.

"Go ahead," Kathryn responded in a sleepy tone.

"I'll be home soon," Tom offered easily, yet she'd know the tone in his voice carried a warning. They needed to talk and it wasn't going to be a pleasant conversation.

"Good, I've been wanting for you since o four hundred. Captain out," Kathryn signed off.

 _Time to pay the piper_ , Tom told himself internally. He'd been avoiding his wife since their blow up in her ready room early this morning. There really hadn't been anything further either could say. They needed time to cool down and considered the duality of their responsibilities, to the crew and each other. _No one said serving on the same ship as your spouse would be easy, especially under the current conditions. Yet, it's what's occurred. Let's hope we can get through this without doing too much damage to our marriage. The one thing I'm not willing to give up is Kate's love, cause I'm sure as hell not going to stop loving her. We just have to work though this, making sure our relationship is rock solid. The rest, we'll work out as we go._


	18. Time and Again

**Part Eighteen: Time and Again.**

"Hi, Honey, I'm home," Tom called brazenly into their quarters the moment the door slid open. He hoped the silly greeting might put his wife in a better mood.

Fear started low in his belly when Tom couldn't hear Kate and the lights were at twenty-five percent. He'd seen this behaviour before, when her guilt took hold and she couldn't shake it. Following his instinct and nose, he found her in the bath tub with her favourite rose scented neo-candles alight and bubbles to her neck. The candles weren't made of old-fashioned wax with a wick because fire on a space going vessel was forbidden by Starfleet regulations. Instead they'd been the last birthday present from her loving husband before he commenced the most dangerous mission of his life. Both the candles and bath were a luxury she'd fought to include in the Captain's cabin when commissioning _Voyager_. Personally, Tom wondered how many times his wife used the tub while he'd been with the Maquis. He understood Kate used the warmth and smell when particularly tense or uspset.

"Well," Tom crossed his legs and arms in the door jamb while his face brightened. The fact he'd found Kate relaxing after ignoring her for a day meant they were at least in an uneasy truce. Personally, Thomas Paris hoped it signified his wife's forgiveness.

"You are wearing too much to join me," Kate managed, her eyes still closed and tone sleepy.

 _She'd not guilt ridden or angry, which is a good sign_ , Tom watched with a slight smile beginning to light his features. "Please tell me you haven been in there since I comm'ed you half an hour ago," Tom teased.

"Guilty," she stated, finally opening one eye and gauging the mood of her husband. It seemed the guilt had been there, but kept in check. "Get in here, Tom. I have plans for you and they have nothing to do with the world outside our quarters." 

"Yes, Ma'am."

If there was an award for getting out of a uniform in record time, Commander Thomas Eugene Paris would have won it hands down. What followed caused the water and bubbles to cascade over the edge of the filled-to-the-brim tub. Captain Kathryn Paris had become relaxed in her bath prior to her husband's attentions, she was completely boneless after. Tom wrapped her in a towel and carried her to their bed. Spooned in each other arms, they finally talked.

"This is our haven," Kate sighed, one hand stroking Tom's protectively draped over her stomach.

"It has to be that way, Kate," Tom agreed. "No discussion about our jobs or _Voyage_ r, the decisions we have to make outside this room. This is ours."

"We leave those persona's outside the door," she agreed. "The Captain and Commander don't belong in here. We're just Kate and Tom Paris."

"It's not going to be easy," her husband responded, lifting himself up onto an elbow to watch his wife's expressions. "There are times one of us is going to need to emotionally debrief."

"I know your signs, Tom," Kate smiled. "You're nothing if not persistent."

"I got you," he grinned. "That took more than persistence. I told you'd end up as my wife."

"Tom," Kathryn swatted his hand, "you were barely seventeen at the time."

"So, it took me four years and nine months to convince you," Tom continued to tease. "But I got the girl in the end."

"Well this more mature girl knows you have to be on duty in an hour," Kathryn sighed. "I approved your changes to the Con rosters before going off duty. I don't like them. We're not going to have much time together for the next month."

"Three of four hours after o four hundred," Tom responded, a sad frown covering his lips. "You know I wouldn't ask for this, unless it was imperative."

"I'm going to have to trust you," the Captain sighed louder this time, "until you're ready, aren't I?"

"Let's just say, the possibility of Chakotay and Ayala starting a mutiny in the next few months is decreasing rapidly," Tom stated with a careless shrug.

"But," once again it was the Captain who spoke.

"But, I'll inform the Captain of any issues when they become relevant to the functioning of her ship," Commander Paris responded. Quickly turning into Tom, he smirked. "Right now, I have to kiss my wife and get dressed for duty. I wouldn't want to earn the Captain's wrath for being late for my watch after piloting us out of that singularity."

"Have you had any sleep?" Kathryn demanded, finally looking into fatigued blue eyes.

"About as much as you'll get before returning to the bridge," Tom retorted. "Don't worry, Kate, I'll catch up tomorrow."

Searching the holodeck logs while seated in the big chair his first night on the late Beta watch, Commander Paris found the booking under crewman Chell's name. It coincided with his return to full privileges after aiding Seska with her attempted mutiny. It seemed the tennis matches were the code the Maquis chose to use for their clandestine meetings. This assembly was scheduled for the start of the Gamma shift, when the Bolian got of duty in nine days-time. Checking his duty roster, Tom reserved the second half of his watch for routine maintenance at the same time. He'd learn nothing new from the Maquis gathering, but would continue to observe and wait.

The intervening days proved quiet. _Voyager_ , according to Mr. Neelix, had passed from the Kazon-Ogla territory into the sphere of the Kazon-Halik in the fourth week of their journey back to the Alpha quadrant. They had water but metals were in short supply. If the sect knew of their presence, they would happily destroy the Federation Vessel for raw materials. Better armed and with more space worthy ships, they might cause issue for _Voyager_. Calling her Chief Con and Chief Engineering Officers into a meeting after dismissing Neelix, Captain Paris prepared to take a more torturous route far from the Halik's main populous centres.

"It's not going to add more than a week to our total journey time," Tom shrugged easily, not seeing this as a problem. They'd just make up the time at some point. "Especially if we're left alone to go on our way. A skirmish could cost _Voyager_ a lot more in terms of damage."

"And my engines won't get ravaged," B'Elanna stood in the ready room, arms defensively crossed over her chest with a look of determination on her face. "Which means we won't have to use resources to fix them and then find somewhere to restock."

"Make it so Mr. Paris," the Captain ordered, keeping her deep sigh internalised. Any delay, Kathryn felt, reflected on her personally and started the guilt cycle once again. "I want to know if there are any M class planets we can trade with along the way. If anyone settled this region, it would be in the safer areas we're going to travel trough. Dismissed, Lt. Torres. I'd like a word with you about the next round of Con rosters' Commander."

"Don't change them just yet," Tom requested the moment the door had closed. It had been almost a week and, although he missed Kate, Commander Paris has a mission to complete. "I need at least two or three weeks to accomplish my goals, Captain."

Nodding, Kathryn sat back into her chair and studied the man before her. Both had kept to their new routine. They were Starfleet Officers everywhere but in their quarters. Due to the lack of time together, they hadn't been back to Sandrine's, although Kathryn remembered the stolen night fondly. Neither had a day off scheduled in the next week. If Tom wasn't on the bridge, he secluded himself in his office or the holoprogramming lab. Not knowing what her husband was up to infuriated the Captain and saddened his wife. Somehow, she knew Tom was putting himself in danger to protect her ship and its crew.

A fortnight later, Commander Tom Paris returned to the Alpha shift at his wife's insistence. The night before, the Intelligence officer had been accosted on his way from his secret office to his quarters. He'd staggered into their quarters at a quarter after four. As their time together was limited, he usually returned home at the first opportunity. Kathryn knew something was wrong the moment he stepped through the door.

"Captain to transporter room two. Medical emergency. Beam myself and Commander Paris directly to sick bay," she ordered.

"He has a concussion," the EMH reported to an anxious Captain after examining his patient. "Thankfully, Mr. Paris has a hard head and there was little damage done. There are other signs of trauma but no defensive wounds. I have healed the bruises and sprains; however, the underlying and poorly attended breaks are a worry. I have done the best I can to fix the Commander."

"What do you mean?" Kathryn turned into a wife, even if the Captain understood the reference. It seemed Tom had taken on more dangerous missions than even she realised.

"Some of these injuries go back six years," the EMH confirmed Kathryn Paris's suspicions.

"How soon can I take my husband back to our quarters?" she demanded.

"I'll keep the Commander overnight for observation," the doctor stated carelessly.

"Kate," Tom's hoarse voice called out from the biobed.

"I'm here," she rushed to his side. "Tom, who did this to you?"

"Paris seclusion Alpha one." Once the forcefield was erected, Commander Paris finally spoke. "Two Maquis, two Fleet," he managed to focus on his wife's face, lifting a hand to her cheek.

"Four on one," she turned into the Captain in an instant, brushing aside the gesture, "hardly a fair fight."

"Kate, no reprisals. I need them to feel safe," Tom pleaded. "They are just angry, not the one's I'm after."

"Who are you after?" Demanded the enraged woman.

"The ones who will betray _Voyager_ ," his voice was becoming quieter with each passing word, "who will contact the Kazon and try to trade technology for safe passage. The one's who will let Seska out of her cage. If the Kazon get hold of her tactics and information…."

Finally understanding the threat would come from within, Chakotay's warning in her ready room finally made sense. Tom was on a mission, one that might force him to leave the safety of _Voyager_. Only his laps in conscious thought allowed the Captain and wife a glimpse into the professional character and ethics of Intelligence Commander Thomas Eugene Paris. He was the polar opposite to her husband, and kept this persona locked safely away. Shuddering, Kate Paris wondered what Tom had to do in his career, how much he couldn't tell her and what the scars meant.

"I want a full report on the Commander's injuries, present and past," Captain Paris ordered, retreating from her husband's side to consider this new information. "I want it coded at the highest level of security, for my eyes only. For whatever reason, Commander Paris does not want this event made public and I agree. For his protection, I will allow the forcefield to remain until Tom's ready to deactivate it."

This event did not change Kate's working hours, or Tom's extra circular activities. He had insisted if they were to work the Alpha shift together, that once a week, she finish when he did. Today was that day. Handing over the helm to his relief, Tom offered to the bridge crew, "holding course three five one mark one zero, warp seven. We'll be passing a red dwarf system in forty minutes. I can't tell you if there are any M-class planets."

"Very good, Mr. Paris," the Captain offered, watching her husband prepare to stand and approach her. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom couldn't stop the grin erupting onto his face as he used his stool to spin towards the mid bridge.

Before he could take a step from the con, _Voyager_ rocked. Without a second thought, Tom returned to his station. The deck below his feet continued to shake as his fingers danced over the console. Finally, the ship steadied.

"Report!" demanded the Captain. She had also returned to her chair, preparing to continue her duty shift until this issue was sorted.

"We're at the leading edge of a shockwave," Tuvok responded, watching his board.

"Minor hull breach on deck three," Harry called, waiting for the internal sensors to activate the structural integrity systems. "Contained. Shields are holding."

"Engineering is undamaged, Captain," Torres voice echoed over the comm. In such situations, the emergency channel to B'Elanna's com badge activated. "All systems operational."

"Mr. Paris," Kathryn questioned, "can you identify the source of the wave?"

"Scanners are picking up a debris cloud in the red dwarf system we're approaching," Tom responded. "We should be in sensor range in ten minutes."

"Increase speed to warp nine point five," Kathryn ordered, calculating the time it would take to reach their new destination with the increased velocity. "Slow to impulse when we reach orbit."

"The cloud consists of differentially charged polaric ions, Captain," Tuvok offered after running an in-depth sensor sweep. At this speed, information on the system increased as they closed in. In a few minutes, they would reach the heliopause.

That brought a frown to the scientist in Captain Paris. "Differentially charged? That would suggest a massive detonation."

The turbolift opened, depositing Kes and Neelix on the bridge. Neither had been called, nor were they required in _Voyagers_ command centre during a crisis. Yet, their appearance gave Kathryn Paris the option of new information.

"Are you familiar with any intelligent life forms in this system, Mr. Neelix?" the Captain asked, looking to the Talaxian for any data. She wondered why the pair suddenly appeared, and, more particularly, what the expression on Kes's face meant.

"Familiar? Not exactly familiar," Neelix started to procrastinate.

"Entering orbit, Captain," Tom cut the man off. It was obvious he didn't know anything. "Deflectors at maximum. We're within visual range of the surface."

"I had a dream," Kes offered quietly. She'd come to stand beside Captain Paris. "A million people cried out at once, as if their world were being destroyed."

On the screen sat a grey, cratered ball that had once been a living planet. Everyone stared, wondering how the radiation, the shock wave and this dead world occurred. It was obvious whatever happened devastated every living thing. Increasing magnification, they saw the shattered remains of cities and the end of a civilization.

Twenty-four hours later, only the Captain remembered the occurrences of the last day. Of the many events, meeting the child Lakota, having Tom wear a skirt over his pants while she could go about in trousers, the terrorist group hoping to stop their worlds reliance on Polaric Energy, one incident would remain when the others had faded. Her husband, trying to protect her, laying on the ground after being shot with a primitive projectile weapon, clutching his bleeding abdomen, all the while insisting she complete their mission, only to find her crew had caused the devastating detonation.

"Holding course three five one mark one zero, warp seven," Commander Paris's hands became still on his console as a sudden wave of nausea over took him. In his mind's eye, Tom felt the memories from Markov assault his conscious. Allowing one hand to stray to the back of his head in the hope of relieving the sudden pressure, the images started to fade almost as quickly as they came. Spinning his seat around to face the Captain, Kate had a most peculiar expression no her face.

"Are you ready, Mr. Paris?" Kathryn almost leapt from her chair, anxiety causing her expression to become closed to everyone but her husband. She knew Tom was experiencing the same events.

Without a word, but many pairs of eyes following them, Captain and Commander Paris left the bridge in silence. The atmosphere had changed, abruptly and irrevocably, a few moments earlier. The two had been softly flirting for the last hour. Everyone knew tonight was something Tom Paris referred to as 'Date Night'. It took the Captain to explain her husband's love of all things late twentieth century for understanding to dawn. No one wanted to question what occurred in the last few seconds, causing both the Paris's to all but run from the bridge.

"You remember," it was a statement from Captain Kathryn Paris. She'd waited until the turbolift doors closed before uttering the words that would make her memories tangible.

Nodding, Tom offered, "deck six." Turning to his wife, he laced his fingers through hers. "It's fading, fast. There are just fragments left. But, the image of you, leaving me to die…"

"I'm not sure I want to remember that!" Kate exclaimed, looking deeply into Tom's blue eyes. Her emotions close to the surface, both the Captain and the wife allowed their vulnerabilities to show. Neither wanted to lose the man standing before them. Yet it was a real possibility at some time in the future.

"We have to take it as some kind of sign," Tom continued, knowing Kate didn't want to hear his words. "There might come a time when one of us is forced to choose _Voyager_ over the life of the other. I think that's what this experience was trying to teach us, why the universe chose the two of us to step through that subspace portal. At least you know you can do it, Captain, walk away from your husband and put the lives of everyone on this ship first. I was proud of you, Kate, and hopeful that you'd get home in time for our son even if I couldn't. If anything like that should happen again, promise me you'll leave me for his sake."

"It's not a decision," Kathryn stated acidly, "I ever want to make."

"Neither do I," Tom agreed mournfully, yet both knew it to be a very real possibility.

They approached the holodeck in silence, Commander Paris changing his mind about the program he'd prepared for their night out. Together they walked into Sandrine's, found a secluded table for two and ordered a stiff drink. Beneath the surface, their hands remained linked, their bodies squashed together and their eyes on the other, expressing themselves as only a long-married couple, who know each other well, can do. It took two rounds before the conversation started, haltingly at first, then with more passion. They needed this emotional escape in a space that was not their quarters. By silent agreement, whenever one or both required the time and freedom to vent their feelings, they would visit this restricted version of the Sandrine's program.

"Time to play pool," Kathryn finally allowed a soft, sad smile to cover her lips, "and beats the pants off you."

"You can beat me all you like," Tom teased in return, "but you're not getting my pants off until were in our quarters."

"Winner gets to choose," Kathryn stated blandly, downing the last of her drink as a challenge.

Grinning, Tom couldn't help the chuckle that escaped his throat. "You're on."

The game turned out to be closer than any they'd ever played, Tom missing his shot on the black and handing the game to his wife. Kathryn Paris would never know it if was deliberate. She'd always remember the first time they made love on the Pool table. It wouldn't be the last.

O


	19. Prime Directive

**Part Nineteen: Prime Directive.**

 **AN:** I've been doing a little bit of research into the time line of _Voyager_. Here is what I've found for the first season using Memory Alpha and a Stardate calculator:

Launch: 14 Jan.

Caretaker: 23 April.

Parallax: 10 June

Phage: 14 July

The Cloud: 16 June (obviously aired out of sequence)

Eye of the Needle 31 July.

It doesn't quite fit into my time line. There is too much time between Tom leaving for his Maquis mission and Caretaker, about nine months by my calculations. This could be shortened if the initial Voyager trials were done between Mars and Jupiter, allowing Kathryn to keep their son in his artificial womb on board. When the extra-Sol testing commenced she needed to place him in stasis.

I also calculate Parallax occurred about 23 May and Time and Again 4 June of 2371 in my AU (no time given in cannon). For my own purpose, The Cloud, Phage and Eye of the Needle happen with only a few days between them. I'm going to be playing with the episode dates to fit in with my plot but not the sequence. If you need a reminder of what occurred, you'll need to brush up as I'll just be taking a few lines from the scrips to let you know where we are in the Season. There's a great transcript site on Chakotaynet.

This might not interest some people, but it makes my ideas flow better when my OCD is satisfied. I hope you're continuing to enjoy this epic. I have to say; this story was supposed to be a short work. At the moment, Kate, Tom and the rest of the crew are not really talking to me. I'm trying to get this labour of love done, so I can go back to my other stories.

* * *

 _Personal log, Stardate 48546.2. Our journey home is several weeks old now, and I have begun to notice in my crew and in myself, a subtle change as the reality of our situation settles in. Here in the Delta Quadrant, we are virtually the entire family of man._

Just after midnight found the Captain wandering the near empty hallways of _Voyager_. Tom had been on the late Beta/early Gamma shift for almost three weeks and she missed her husband more each night. After their initial settling in period, they'd developed a comfortable routine. Now six weeks into their journey home, the former Maquis were still learning their place and the Starfleet personnel coping with teaching untrained but tried recruits while still doing their duty.

 _We are more than a crew and I must find a way to be more than a Captain to these people, but it's not clear to me exactly how to begin. I have spoken about this with my husband, Commander Thomas Paris, who has many ideas but none that appeal to me. Tom's speciality is Intelligence, often achieving missions alone allowing him to cope better with this situation. Commander Tuvok, who has been my counsel for many years suggests getting to know the crew. Under the circumstances I find this even more difficult to achieve, although my husband would actively approach the task with enthusiasm._

Smiling, Kathryn recollected the evening they'd spent with Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres at Sandrine's. Stepping into the turbolift, she called for deck eleven. Strolling down yet another near empty corridor, the Captain approached Engineering.

 _At the Academy, we are taught that a captain is expected to maintain a certain distance. Until now, I've always been comfortable with that distance. Out here, I only have Tom and Tuvok._

"Captain," B'Elanna's shocked expression stated her unease at seeing the superior officer still on duty and prowling around the ship, "I didn't realise there was an inspection scheduled."

A slight smile creased the corner of Kathryn's lips. Midnight and her Chief Engineer was still hard at work. _I think Lt. Torres is the only other person who works as hard as me!_ "Not an inspection, B'Elanna," the Captain offered straightforwardly, hoping to put her engineer at ease. Kathryn use of the woman's name to create an atmosphere of comfort only increased Lt. Torres disquiet. "Just a stroll. Tom's on duty."

That seems to break the ice between the women. "Oh," B'Elanna finally allowed a the very merest hint of a smile. "He used to come down to engineering on _Val Jean_ late at night sometimes," she spoke while watching the Captain's reactions, "just to speak about you because he couldn't sleep. He missed you."

"As I did him," Kathryn said, nodding with appreciation at the small snippet of information.

Taking the ladder down to the lower level, Lt. Torres came to stand by the Captain. "He's a good man and an even better officer. I might have made a play for Tom myself, if he hadn't been so wrapped up in his wife."

"Always good to know," Kathryn chuckled. The one thing she absolutely knew, her husband would never stray. Tom loved her too much. "Now, B'Elanna, what are you still doing here at midnight?"

"I could ask you the same question," the Engineer crossed her arms and their easy banter disappeared.

"At least your baby, Tom's words, not mine," and the feeling of comradery was back with a few words and finger pointing towards the warp core. Captain Paris suddenly knew how to connect with her crew, through her husband and his irrepressibly childish antics. "Is always here to comfort you."

"Tom might appear irresponsible and self-indulgent," Torres agreed, "but he proved to be one of the hardest working members of _Val Jean's_ crew. It's just that Paris didn't advertise everything he did, like the replicator rationing system. I see how much he does on _Voyager_ and how little some of the crew trust him."

"That sounds like my husband," Kathryn smirked. "How about we both go off duty for the night?"

"I hear Sandrine's is an open program running constantly in Holodeck one," B'Elanna stated, watching carefully for the Captain's reaction.

With a nod, the two women headed for the turbolift and deck six. It was the same night Tom had been accosted by four crewmen and ended up in sickbay overnight. He returned to the Alpha shift without time to heal from his injuries. Six days later Captain and Commander Paris were to have their first date night. It had been interrupted by Markov's Polaric non-explosion.

"Bridge to Captain," Chakotay's dulcet tone infused from her comm badge.

"What now," Captain Paris muttered under her breath as she was getting dressed for their second attempt at date night. Tom insisted on skiing in the European Alps. He'd spent hours on the programming to make the event perfect. "Yes, Commander?" Kathryn touched the device on her chest, wondering what could have occurred in the last hour.

"I just wanted to alert you to a nebula we've picked up on long range sensors," the First Officer reported. "Commander Tuvok has detected unusually high levels of omicron particles."

"Are you thinking we could collect these omicron particles to provide an additional antimatter reserve," Kathryn asked, her scientific mind working rapidly.

Power supplies weren't at critical levels, yet. _Voyager_ was a vessel designed for short range missions within Federation Space. They'd been stocked for four months on leaving Deep Space 9. Yet, if they could collect additional antimatter, the warp core could produce more output for non-propulsion purposes and rationing could be lessened. It took vast amounts of energy to create the fuel source for the Warp core and they didn't know when or where it would be available in the Delta quadrant.

"I believe that was Commander Tuvok's recommendation," Chakotay's smile oozed through the comm. Even he'd come to understand the Captain's reliance on caffeine in her daily routine. "I believe then might be coffee in that nebula."

Opening her comm to ship wide dispersal, Captain Kathryn Paris ordered, "senior bridge officers, report for duty." Once on the bridge, she didn't need to tell Tom, "Commander, set a new course," but did anyway, with a bounce in her step and smirk on her face.

"I know," he huffed teasingly while changing the vessels direction, "there's coffee in that nebula."

"Well," Kathryn sighed, relaxing in her tub while her husband sat on the side massaging her tense shoulders, "that didn't go as expected."

Thomas Paris knew when to remain quiet. Now was one of those times. Energy was at critical levels, the creature had drained Voyager's reserves. They'd been lucky to escape. B'Elanna was furious, Chakotay and the rest of the crew angry their rations had been cut further but the Captain's need for coffee. It seemed Tom's quip had been misinterpreted by the former Maquis on the bridge during the alert. They though Kate was being selfish, which just proved how little they knew their Captain. Yet he felt responsible. It had been his ill-timed jibe that caused the current rumours.

Later that night, while pretending to be asleep, Commander Paris head his wife dictating an addendum to her log. It made him want to cry. Instead Tom climbed out of bed, padding softly across the living room, he came to stand beside her. Once again taking her shoulders in his warm hands and applying pressure where she most needed it.

 _Captain's Log, supplemental. We set out to augment our energy reserves and wound up depleting them by over twenty percent. As a result, we've set a new course for a planet fourteen light years away that Neelix says might have compatible energy sources to offer us. It is out of our way, but circumstances offer few alternatives. So much for raising spirits._

"Assuming we do find dilithium on this planetoid," Kathryn sighed heavily as she entered her quarters after another day in the Delta quadrant, "we're going to need a refining facility on the ship to process it."

"Let me guess," Tom placed his hands on his wife's shoulders, ready to remove her jacket. By detaching the Starfleet issued uniform, Captain Paris became Kate, so the sooner Mr. Paris managed to get his wife undressed, the sooner they'd be done with ships business. "B'Elanna wants to make modifications to the auxiliary impulse reactor. What," the Commander shrugged his shoulders with a look innocence while his wife turned her famous glare on him, "I overheard Chakotay discussing it with Torres before they approached you."

"Lt. Torres wasted no time in going to Commander Chakotay with her plan after the fiasco last week. Apparently it could be converted into a crude dilithium refinery," Kate finally gave up her outer covering, allowing Tom to throw it onto the nearest chair before he tugged at her turtle neck. "Sometimes I think our Chief Engineer goes out of her way to find solutions that ignore Starfleet procedures and protocols."

"Well," Tom shrugged out of his own top, pulling the utilitarian grey garment with it, "right now I know someone else who's going out of her way to find means to ignore the fact my wife shouldn't be taking about _Voyager_ in our quarters."

Ramping up her death stare, Kathryn Paris signed. "So what are we supposed to talk about, Mr. Paris?" When Tom didn't answer, Mrs. Paris felt she'd won this round. Until she felt her husband's lips behind her right ear, nibbling a path down to her neck. "Do you ever think of anything else?"

"Rarely," Tom stated mockingly. "You should feel gratified that I still find you the most beautiful woman I've ever known after all these years."

"Gratified," Kathryn echoed. Internally her heart sped up while a pleasant warmth seeped from her abdomen. Somehow Tom managed to get her out of her singlet and pants, leaving her standing in the middle of the living room sporting her underwear. "Right now, my stomach is feeling empty. I think you're misinterpreting my signals, Tom."

"Oh, I don't think so," he teased, "by the time I'm finished with you." Breaking off his sensuous attentions, Tom knew he wouldn't win this round. "Okay, food first. But I get to choose desert."

"Oh," Kate Paris rolled her eyes, "I wonder what that will be? Whipped cream and strawberries?"

"That's one we haven't done in a while," Tom grinned, while checking to see if their account had enough replicator rations for both dinner and the events afterward. They had increased the number of meals consumed in the Senior mess as rationing tightened further. The planet Neelix suggested had been on the very edge of unlocking Warp technology and out of their reach due to the Prime Directive.

"Bridge to Captain Paris," Chakotay's voice issued from her comm badge the next morning.

"Go ahead," Kathryn rolled her eyes. This action seemed to be a constant over the last few weeks. It seemed she couldn't even have a quiet breakfast with her husband before commencing her shift without someone interrupting them. They'd just managed to secure a secluded table in the Senior Mess and Neelix's coffee substitute hadn't touched her lips, which might have been a blessing in disguise.

"We're approaching the rogue planetoid, Captain," reported her Frist Officer.

"On my way, Captain out," Kathryn let out a sigh. "I want you to come with me, Tom. I have a feeling I'm going to need you at the Con."

"We're picking up definite dilithium signatures, Captain," Ensign Kim reported the moment the woman stepped onto the bridge, his attention focused on his station. "The strongest readings are originating from ten to twenty kilometres inside the planetoid."

B'Elanna had been seated at her Engineering station for over an hour, waiting. It seemed she knew more than she was saying. The young half Klingon rarely exhibited emotions apart from rage and anger. Today Lt. Torres seemed almost giddy. "It also looks like there's a series of subterranean caves with an oxygen-nitrogen atmosphere."

Tom rotated on his chair to give his wife a look that said, _it's happened_. Kathryn held back the sigh accompanied by the eye roll. Unfortunately, her husband had been correct and Lt. B'Elanna Torres, after little more than six weeks, had the Engineering department running like clockwork and treating the Impulse and Warp drive like her personal reclamation projects. Another fortnight on, and even the former Maquis no longer considered her one of their own.

"Class M. It'll make mining a lot easier if we can go in there without environmental suits," Chakotay stated, watching the non-verbal communication between the Captain and Helm. He still couldn't figure out how they achieved the level of understanding when half of their careers had been spent on different ships. Hogan managed to ferret out their history, going back to the fact a young Kathryn Janeway stayed with the Paris family while at Starfleet Preparatory School with Tom's twin sisters.

Still not convinced as their stocks of dilithium were anywhere near critical, the Captain asked, "how much raw material are we talking about?"

"It could be anywhere from five hundred to one thousand metric tonnes. Enough for the entire seventy-year journey home," B'Elanna smiled, "no matter how much damage is done to this ship. My reactor will be ready to go in three days. I have Jonas and Bandera working on a secure holding facility."

"We might even be able to trade some of the refined product," Tom added, "for other supplies."

"Commander Chakotay," Kathryn turned to her left and gazed into the eyes of her First Officer. "Take Ensign Kim and lead the away team. Let's hope we gain enough dilithium to both trade for organic supplies and deuterium. Those are our biggest problems at present."

Neither said a word, but this was the first time Kathryn Paris placed the former Maquis leader in charge of a mission. It demonstrated how much closer their bond had become over the last two weeks. At every opportunity, the Captain used the opening Tom created to draw the man into her inner circle. Twice a week, Chakotay and Tuvok dinned in the Captain's quarters. For the last fortnight, Kathryn Paris was finally able to entertain her senior staff with her husband at her side.

Unfortunately, the exercise didn't work out as expected. Neelix insisted on accompanying Chakotay after studying Starfleet procedures for away missions. He lost a set of lungs and ended up in Sick bay at the Doctor's tender mercy for a week. _Voyager_ found a new enemy in the Vidiians. In all the discussion with Dereth and Mortura, Kathryn Paris was unable to uncover the width and breath of the Vidiian Sodality, placing her crew in more danger.

The next month passed in relative peace and quiet. The former Maquis met three times over this period, their holodeck time between the Cloud and Phage adventures curtailed. Tom managed to observe each gathering but learnt nothing new. It seemed they used the tennis matches to maintain their cohesiveness while waiting for the perfect time to take over _Voyager_. The only point of note was B'Elanna's exclusion from every event. He'd checked the rosters and knew Lt. Torres could have made the meetings if she chose. That B'Elanna didn't spoke volumes about her attachment to _Voyager's_ engines.

"I'm telling you," Mike Ayala, one of the quietest members of the Maquis, argued when they group retired to Sandrine's after their last clandestine get-together. The French bar was now running full time in Holodeck one for the entire crew to mix and mingle. The program had been successful, but alerted Commander Paris when particular events occurred. "There is a reason the Vidiians don't take the Kazon for organ harvesting."

"If you go on about that Prime Directive, again," Hogan, also a relatively introverted character declared aggressively, "I'll hit you. I've heard enough of your Starfleet BS."

"The Prime Directive has nothing to do with this situation," Chakotay sighed, sipping his synth-ale. This people were becoming more antagonistic as the weeks turned into months without any real action. "It only applies to pre-warp civilizations like the Nea. They might have had dilithuim, but because they hadn't learnt to use it, we couldn't interfere in their natural exploration of space. The Kazon are warp capable, as are the Vidiians, therefore the Federation's policy doesn't apply in this instance. The Captain's orders are more concerned with keeping the crew we have alive and well. We're not to engage unless impossible to do otherwise to conserve recourses. That's the Federation way."

"Don't we know it," Dana Hallows retorted. Tonight, she'd brought along Valarie Canamar who worked with the Delany sister's in Stella cartography.

"I don't know if the Captain's considered the idea," Valarie offered into the argument that was about to become heated, "but why are we taking this paticular path back to the Alpha quadrant which brings us close to the galactic centre. Paris has to know the chance of habitable planets is greater than on the rim."

"Which means the number of potential allies and enemies is greater," Chakotay stated.

"The Bajoran wormhole ends in the Gamma quadrant," Valarie offered in a timid voice. She'd been a new hire in the days before being swept up by the Caretakers displacement wave. "If we could locate it, the journey home might be a lot shorter."

"Do you have any idea where it's located," Ayala asked, his deep brown eyes shining with hope.

"I know our current galactic position is much closer to the Gamma than Alpha quadrant," Valarie shrugged. "I'm not sure anyone but the Cardassian's know the exact location of the other end."

"Seska," Ayala looked to Chakotay, who nodded.

"See what you can get out of her," he ordered. "In the mean time we continue on the course set by our Captain."

"So, _Voyager_ can make it back to the Federation and imprison us," Jonas added in a scathing tone, "just like Paris has Seska. If we come out near the Badlands, we might be able to add Voyager to the Maquis fleet."

"Are you forgetting," Mike Ayala's voice took on a deadly timber, "that the woman is Cardassian? She might not know the location of the wormhole or divulge the location even if she does. No, Seska stays in the brig and anyone who tries to get her out will answer to me. I'll get the location out of her, it she knows it, then we can take the plan to the Captain. It will look better that way, as if we've integrated and are trying to help."

"Tell us again," Chakotay added with authority, "why you join the Maquis, Jonas?"

Levelling a quelling glare at the security and first officer, Michael Jonas chose not to pursue that battle. He had no love for the Federation, or the Cardassian's. "So," he asked, "how is Seska these days."

"Board," Ayala answered succinctly. "At her request, Captain Paris has attempted to rehome her with the Gree and Heindra when we attempted to trade with them. Neither wanted the woman for fear she'd turn to the Kazon and bring their rath down their home worlds. Even the Vidiian's didn't want her!" Mike attempted a joke. It fell flat.

"You seem to agree with this Prime Directive," Dana spoke with a soft revulsion.

"I don't want to see the Kazon unify and create another Cardassia Prime," Ayala retuned in a tone few had ever heard from the big man. "My wife and sons are living on a planet in the DMZ. I've seen the devastation they rain down of innocent populations. Both the Gree and Heindra were afraid of reprisal if the Halik ever found out they'd traded with _Voyager_. Would your home colony risk trading with the Federation and bring down the Cardassian's?" Shifting his gaze to every member of the Maquis at the table, Mike Ayala knew he'd won both this round and the support of two thirds of those present with his argument. "Mine either. Until we arrive home, I suggest you all get to know the Prime Directive. I might be the only concept standing between us and complete anarchy."

With that, Michael Ayala threw back his drink, slammed down his glass and stalked out of the bar. Twenty sets of eyes followed him. "I don't think," offered Hogan, "we ever really knew Ayala."

"I think," Chakotay offered, finishing up his beer, "we were so busy fighting the Cardassian's and trying to stay alive, there wasn't time to know each other. It's something we have to use this time to correct."

The Kazon-Hakil became aware of _Voyager's_ intrusion into their territory when the ship was on the border with the Kazon-Nistrum. Unwilling to share such a prize, they attacked with force, sending three heavily armed scout ships and two raiders. It was half their fleet.

"Red Alert," Captain Paris appeared on the bridge, her jacket open and husband trailing behind also partly dressed. Neither had taken the time to remove more than their outer wear after retiring for the evening to enjoy a meal together in their quarters. "Sound battle stations," Kathryn ordered.

"Attack pattern Beta four," Tom stated from the con. "Aiming for the raider on the port."

"Shields holding," Tuvok announced. He'd slipped into his station along with the rest of the senior bridge crew.

"One raider is withdrawing, damaged," Chakotay announced once Voyager turned for a second pass. "Four to go. It seems those vessels are more susceptible to our phaser strikes. I suggest we try Gamma six, Captain, and scatter the Scouts."

"Make it so, Mr. Paris," Kathryn ordered, "then get us out of here, warp nine point nine."

"Shield integrity at sixty six percent," Tuvok reported. "Damage to decks four through eight."

"Hull integrity holding," Harry added. "Another shot like that last one, and I'm not sure the internal dampening system will stand up."

"Acknowledged," Kathryn shouted as Voyager rocked. "Engineering, I need you warp ready. Mr. Paris, patch your station into Lt. Torres comm signal."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom's voice sounded distracted, his fingers working the board before him.

It took almost an hour and the destruction of two scout ships and the remaining raider before the Kazon-Halik would allow Voyager to limp away at warp seven point five. Now in Kazon-Nistrum territory, no one would uncover Seska's disappearance for several hours as the crew were attempting to make repairs with minimal energy expenditure. Once they did, a ship wide search was further delayed by Chakotay explaining how the woman might be hiding her life signs with an old Maquis trick.

"There's a tricorder missing from locker Phi twenty-one," reported a member of the security team.

"Which means that woman is aboard my ship, somewhere," Kathryn Paris spat, "and evading us. How much damage can she do?"

Tom's only answer was to close his eyes. "I know how she got out. During the battle, the energy grid for the brig shorted, which shouldn't have opened her cell, under normal conditions. Seska's been laying in wait for something like this. She'd carefully crafted a tool from Neelix's Leola Root stew to further dampen the force field. When we find her, Seska will require medical attention for burns."

"I always knew that vegetable was inedible and deadly," muttered Chakotay under his breath, before facing his Captain. For the first time since coming aboard, he felt responsible. Seska was his problem, one of his crew and she might cause enough damage to endanger not only the Fleeters, but his Maquis as well. "Cardassian's have an extra thick dermal layer in comparison to many species. They can survive in situation where many others wouldn't."

"Wonderful," Captain Paris erupted from her seat, coming around her desk to pace the ready room.

"Kim to Captain Paris," the young Ensign commed, earning her seething ire.

Rolling her eyes once again, Kathryn dismissed her senior staff before walking onto the bridge. "Let's see what you have, Mr. Kim," she tried to keep the annoyance out of her tone when approaching the young Ensign hunched over his station.

"There," Harry pointed out a blip on his console, "it's registering only on subspace bands. We don't even have it on long range sensors yet."

"Verteron emanations. Tunnelling secondary particles," the Captain knew exactly what that meant. They'd set up the computer to scan subspace continuously for such anomalies. "It certainly looks like a wormhole."

"But is it stable enough for us to enter," Chakotay asked, "and if it is, where does it lead?"

Mike Ayala was on the bridge by chance. He'd been reporting to Commander Tuvok on the search for Seska. He didn't need his former Captain to tell him what was at stake. Leaving, he started operation Gathering. Soon, every former Maquis on the ship would be ready to play their part in the mutiny if that wormhole lead to the Alpha quadrant.

Tuvok didn't miss the meaningful look between the security Ensign and the First Officer. Commander Paris, standing at the Captains side after exiting the ready room with her, glanced up to capture the Vulcan's gaze. Both knew their problems were only just starting.

"There is, of course, a seventy five percent chance the wormhole will not lead to the Alpha Quadrant," Tuvok announced in his very logical demeanour.

 **AN:** And there we have it, Seska loose, a wormhole and Voyager damaged. Wonder what will occur next. Let me know what you'd like to see and I might be able to include it. Of course, we have Ex Post Facto coming up next. Commander Tom Paris dallying with another woman, accused of her husband's murder, his mind corrupted. Hmm, how will this all play out.


	20. Disappointments

**Part Twenty: Disappointments.**

 **AN:** One reviewer suggested I might be wrapping this up. On the other hand, it might go for hundreds of chapters. I'm not sure I like either idea. So, I'm going to put it to the vote. 1) another few chapters to wrap up, 2) continue on, incorporating many or most of the episodes, or my personal fav 3) Wrap this story up and do a series of one-shots for the episodes that demonstrate the Paris's dynamics, for example Threshold. I have many ideas for Endgame with this relationship still intact. Workforce and the Hirogen would be interesting with changes, do I hear Captain Paris pregnant instead of B'Elanna! Blood Fever, remember B'Elanna stated she would have made a play for an unmarried Tom Paris, and Year of Hell with Tom and Kate separated when they most need each other. Not to mention the first time they manage to contact the Federation, wonder what will be on our potential Mommy and Daddy's minds?

Maybe I will go with option 1 after all, however 3 will give me the opportunity to write myself into a corner by doing the episodes out of order. Oh, the conundrums of an author's muse. Now, _**voting over to you**_!

* * *

 _Three months_ , Seska simmered with rage. _I've been forced to live in this prison cell for three months. Even when Chell and Oden were here, I couldn't see or speak with them._

Standing in one corner of the three-metre square pen, her view encompassed the security guard. Sanding at her station, the woman obviously didn't care for the Cardassian inmate. Occasionally she looked within the windowless space, her hand going automatically to her weapon. This made Seska smile. _If, no when_ , Seska's mind stated, _I get out, I'm going to make that woman terrified for her life. As if she can control me and when I go to the privy or shower. They think they have so much power, they don't know a Cardassian, how we are trained, what we can endure. I'll teach them, then take Voyager and become the greatest power in this region of the Galaxy. Captain and Commander Paris will answer to me!_

It took the, now fully, Cardassian spy a month to receive something other than ration bars after being incarcerated. At first Seska thought she was being deliberately deprived of every comfort as punishment. After the first waves of rage subsided, she started to listen to the guards talk quietly among themselves. It seemed the entire compliment of _Voyager_ were on ration packs until someone called Neelix and that traitor Chell set up an old-fashioned galley. That's when the gelatinous muck started appearing twice a day. After a week of the horrid soupy stew, Seska knew it was the only item she might be able to turn into a weapon. The brig had been well designed to keep prisoners, even ones as talented as her, within its walls permanently.

Meal by meal, the Cardassian separated a single component from the horrid gelatinous muck, testing it by drying the ingredient, exposing it to the forcefield holding her in the cell, hydrating it, massing it into a paste. After nine weeks she'd settled on something called Leola Root. When there had been two guards in the early days, when the Maquis were being trained in Starfleet protocol, Seska heard them speak of the horrid vegetable and how only Neelix used it in his cooking.

Leola proved to be a unique substance. Mashed, it could be layered to increase tensile strength, then moulded and dried into any shape. The resulting blade was enough to harm but not kill. Mashed and retaining a large percentage of water, Seska could coat her body and decrease the burning effect of the forcefield holding her. She had several burnt fingers to prove her theory. Using a large lump and sculpting a tool, then allowing it to dehydrate, she could further disrupt the energy screen keeping her in this cage, if only the main circuit overloaded for just a second or two.

When the Kazon-Halik attacked _Voyager_ , an opportunity presented itself. Woken by the shuddering of the ship, Seska pretended disinterest. The guard seemed distracted, constantly focusing his attention on the door, as if he would be called to a more active duty. Her training had not encompassed this new class of vessel, yet Starfleet brigs hadn't changed in more than a century. When the forcefield flickered and the alarms started, she made her move.

Already covered with the Leola root paste, she exploited the moments of inattention by her sentry, Seska reached through the energy barrier searing her flesh as she searched for the auxiliary control panel obscured almost arm's length away. Using the Leola root tool, the Cardassian spy opened the well concealed flap and embedded it into the inner workings, shorting the already overloaded circuits. The screen now at less than minimal power, Seska stepped through, her extra layers of epidermis disintegrating along with the Leola root paste. Cardassian skin would regenerate within a few days, however her left hand would take longer and require the lifting of a dermal regenerator, which she'd appropriate with a tricorder to hide her life signs. She still had her dominate right hand which held the Leola root blade. Before the guard could draw his phaser, she disabled him with a single, well placed blow.

Smirking, she took the phaser but left the tricorder. She needed a partial medical model for her plans. Unable to access the computer and unwilling to let the entire security team know she'd escaped, Seska approached the door. It opened easily. Steeling down the corridor, she found a Jeffery's tube hatch and entered quickly. She needed to find the tricorder first then tools to access the EPS conduits. Engineering would be out. Lt. Torres, her mind spat the traitorous woman's name, would know if a hyper spanner had so much as moved within seconds. The tricorder proved easy, the tools less so. Surprisingly, it was the ex-Maquis who didn't return their equipment to it assigned location who created the opportunity to expand her cache of resources. Which meant Captain Paris ran a very tight ship were her Starfleet crew were concerned and Chakotay continued to be a screw up. It would make Seska's escape harder but not impossible.

By the time the battle was over and the senior crew uncovered Seska's escape, she'd concealed her life signs and was working on contacting the Kazon. Evading the Starfleet personnel for the next week became a game with the Cardassian. Finally, it happened, an un encoded transporter signal. Commander Paris had locked down several systems with his Intelligence programs which Seska couldn't break. A wide smile covered her face as she prepared to disappear from _Voyager_. It wouldn't be the last time she walked these decks.

"The next time," she swore softly, "I'll be the one in charge. Captain and Commander Paris will rue the day they put me in a cage."

With that, a beam caught the Cardassian spy and spirited her away.

~~~==\\\/===~~~

"I've gone over and over the transporter logs," B'Elanna tried to explain her reasoning. It seemed correct, she just hadn't accounted for the time shift. "There's no question that if we try to transport ourselves through that wormhole, we'll end up twenty years in the past."

"Then let's do it," Harry enthused, looking at the senior staff gathered in the meeting room with a pleading expression. "It's better than trying to spend the next seventy years trying to get home."

"We'd be going back to a time when you were only two years old," Tom sighed.

He understood the younger man's need to get home. Both Paris's had more than enough reason for returning to the Alpha quadrant as quickly as possible. _Besides_ , Commander Paris concluded mentally, _I still have the Seska issue to clean up. I can't leave her here in the Delta quadrant to run riot. Kate wouldn't like it, yet I feel I have to find that woman and put a stop to whatever she's planning. If that means staying behind, then so be it_.

"I know you're disappointed, Harry, we all are," Kathryn tried to sound sympathetic. The last month, losing more than half her ships energy supply, making a new enemy of the Vidiians, not locating anyone to trade with and finally finding themselves in the Kazon-Nistrum region with a damage ship had taken a toll on the Captain.

For the first time, Chakotay came to her rescue. The First Officer noticed the fatigue plaguing the woman and the looks of concern emanating from both Commander's Paris and Tuvok. It seemed the woman did have her limits, not that his people had made this situation any easier. He wondered if anyone else would have survived as well under the pressure of the last fortnight's events. Being married seemed to be a protective factor, yet Tom Paris had his own issues in the form of Seska. Both Captain and Commander Paris appeared fatigued. Now might be the perfect time to mount a munity, yet Chakotay felt disinclined to add yet another issue to the many _Voyager_ was facing, at least until they were closer to the Alpha quadrant.

"Going back," the former Maquis leader offered the Ensign in a compassionate tone, "would pollute the time line to such an extent that the consequences would be unimaginable."

"To that end," Kathryn Paris locked her eyes on the Romulan, "I'm afraid we'll have to send you back alone, and ask that you not reveal anything that has happened."

"I can assure you, Captain," the scientist agreed, "I would not do anything that might contaminate the future and perhaps harm the Romulan Empire, but, in twenty years I could alert Starfleet not to launch the mission which sent you here."

"I'm afraid that's not possible either," Chakotay suddenly recalled the discussion with the Maquis about the Prime Directive in Sandrine's. It seemed longer than a few days previously. So much had occurred in such a short space of time. "We've already had a huge impact on this quadrant. People and events here would be drastically affected."

Chakotay's mind followed that thought to its logical conclusion. _Val Jean_ would still have been targeted by the Caretaker and dragged into the Delta quadrant, alone if _Voyager_ hadn't been sent after them. If they'd cut and run at the first opportunity, it would have been without Torres. _How long would we have lasted against the Ogla?_ Chakotay asked himself, already knowing the answer, _especially with Commander Paris and Cardassian Seska on board? Tom might have proved an asset, but Seska?_

"That leaves us with our original request. In twenty years, would you relay our personal messages to Starfleet?" Kathryn asked softly.

"Of course. At the proper time, I will transmit them," the Romulan agreed, noting the sadness in the eyes of everyone at the table. "If you should find a way back within my lifetime, I will be an old man, but I would welcome a message from you. I am Telek R'Mor of the Romulan Astrophysical Academy."

Only after Telek transported to his vessel, seventy thousand light years distant and twenty years in the past did Tuvok and Tom drop their bomb shells.

"I'm sorry to report Doctor R'Mor died in 2367," Tuvok announced dispassionately.

Before Captain Paris could answer, a chirp issued from her husband's sleeve. Without even her knowledge, Tom had incorporated the Intelligence comm into his regular uniform. It was linked to the stand-alone computer in his office. He'd carefully coded it for several situations, none of which would end well for _Voyager_ and her crew.

"Paris, Alpha One. Erect level ten forcefield around this transporter room. Report," Commander Paris barked at _Voyager's_ main computer. Meeting the eye of Captain Paris and Lt. Commander Tuvok, he knew they would understand the reason he'd dismissed the Transporter Chief and insisted on completing the task himself. Even the expenditure of energy would be appropriate, if his biggest fear became fact.

"The escaped prisoner, Seska, is no longer aboard."

"Rout of escape?" Tom demanded.

"Transporter."

"Destination?" Tom asked, his heart sinking.

"Tom," Kathryn turned her gaze at her husband before the computer could answer. "This is not your fault."

"No," he spat, "then whose is it? I knew what she was going to do."

"Commander," Tuvok started, only to halt at the expression Commander Paris levelled at him. They had worked tirelessly over the last three months to stop this occurance.

"You, of all people know what this means," Tom hissed, his emotions of self-flagellation close to the surface.

"Bridge to Captain," Ensign Kim's voice issued from the comm badge on Kathryn's chest. With a sinking feeling, she knew what was coming. Before Tom could release the forcefield, _Voyager_ rocked under their feet.

"On my way with Commander's Paris and Tuvok. Have Commander Chakotay assume the bridge until we get there. Captain out," the Captain ordered before all three took off at a sprint for the nearest turbolift. "Let's hope we have accomplished enough repairs to defend ourselves against the Kazon-Nistrum."

"It's not the Nistrum I'm worried about," Tom muttered, dejectedly. "It's Seska's tactics. She's been sending subspace messages through the EPS conduits. By the time I get to her location, she's gone."

"We'll talk about this," the three senior officers stepped into the lift, "when the battle's over, Mr. Paris. Then I'll expect a full report on your activities."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom frowned. He'd never heard Kate so indomitable and yet tolerant. It would make leaving his wife to pursue Seska that much harder. Captain Paris was perhaps the one person on this vessel who could understand the guilt and duty associated with letting a Cardassian spy loose in the Delta Quadrant.

* * *

 **AN:** Don't forget to vote! Until next time, have a very Merry Christmas. I won't be publishing until at least next week due to family and work commitments.

O


	21. Ex Post Facto

**Part Twenty-one: Ex Post Facto**

 **AN:** So, it looks like option 3 was the most popular. I'll be wrapping up this story within a few chapters. From then on, I'll be publishing one-shots with CP in the title, for example CP: Threshold or CP: Basics to indicate the one-shot is part of the Captain's Prerogative series.

* * *

"But that isn't possible," Tom stated, blue eyes wide as he watched himself passionately kissing a woman, a woman that wasn't his wife. Never, since the day Kate had come to him in tears at the death of her father, had he even thought about touching another woman in _**that**_ way. He'd not attempted to get intimate with anyone after leaving her on _Herra_ with the intention of refusing Justin's proposal of marriage. As far as Cadet Thomas Paris had been concerned, Lt. Kathryn Janeway had been his Fiancée from that moment on.

"I'm sure it's disorienting to see yourself through another man's eyes," the Banean doctor sympathised.

"No," Tom managed to break the chemical restrain and sit up. Looking the feather capped man in the eye he stated in a determined tone, "you don't understand. I would never cheat on Kate. There is no way I kissed that woman. Hell, I can't even remember her name."

"Every man can be tempted," the Doctor smirked. This didn't fit with his plans. The alien was not meant to be involved with one of his own kind. They were looking for a man of suspect character, a rogue and play boy type, one who would take the bait of an incredibly attractive Mrs. Lidell Wren. _That's why_ , the Doctor considered, _we insisted on two males for this meeting. Initially the Captain wanted to accompany the pilot. It turns out the woman is a scientist and able to understand Dr. Wren's research. Besides, Voyager's reputation precedes it and every society has its pilots. We all know their stereo type. It came as somewhat of a surprise when this man suggested Ensign Kim attend at the scientific attaché, yet his reasoning was sound. Perhaps we have missed a vital clue to Thomas Paris's character._

"This isn't the way it happened," Tom protested, being pushed down onto the couch in a room that seemed far too much like a counsellor's office for his liking. After every mission, there had been a debrief and he hated them. His defences always rose when forced to detail his most intimate thoughts with anyone but his wife. Kate had always been his vulnerability and his strength. Commander Paris would do anything to return home to Kathryn Paris but he would never let her know the details of his missions. Those remained locked in a vaulted area of his mind, never to be let out unless under life threatening duress.

"The trial's over, Mr. Paris," the Doctor announced somewhat smugly two hours later. "There's no point to further denials. Let the record show that the sentence of the court has been carried out. For the rest of your natural life, once every fourteen hours, you will relive the last moments of your victim's life. May the fates have mercy on you, sir."

With that, the two guards dragged Tom to his feet somewhat roughly. They'd never know Tom Paris had been treated with even less respect when captured by the Cardassian's three years previously. Between them, they returned him to his cell, luxury by comparison to some he'd inhabited in his career. Still recovering from the ordeal and attempting to integrate these new engrams what weren't his, Commander Paris's Intelligence training took over. His mind had been taught to be fight against all types of torture if captured. Collapsing onto his bed, Tom held his aching head and tried to picture his wife. Kate, the memories they'd made over the course of their marriage would sustain his sanity until _Voyager_ came for him, and he knew Captain Paris would move half the galaxy to ensure the return of her husband. Until then, he had to endure these odd reflections every fourteen hours.

Commander Paris's sub-conscious had considered something like this very situation. Tom knew making the decision to overrule his Captain and lead this away mission had been correct. This struggle between the Numiri and the Banean sent shivers of disquiet down Tom's spine. He'd listened to every word Neelix spoke when answering Captain Paris's questions about the interplanetary civil war. Not happy with the ubiquitous answers, Tom's training demanded he clarify several points. It seemed even the Kazon-Nistrum avoided this region of space. Questioning the Talaxian carefully, he'd heard enough to realise Kate would make a good hostage or scape goat if thing didn't go well.

The moment the ready room doors closed behind Neelix, Tom stated, "I'm pulling Intelligence rank on this one, Captain."

"Why?" she demanded, her grey eyes turning to flint. Yet her husband didn't flinch. Weeks ago, she learnt this man, the Commander standing before her, was not the Tom Paris she'd married. He was an entirely unknown entity and capable of actions Kathryn would rather not imagine.

"I hunch, Captain," Tom stated, his own orbs clouded and staring at the wall behind Kate's desk. "I need to establish if Mr. Neelix's information on the Numiri is correct."

"Let's wait until we encounter them before taking further action," Kathryn offered.

Shaking his head, Tom didn't want to make his suggestion an order. "Let me be very clear Captain. I can only assume, as a bargaining chip, you are the best the Banean or the Numiri could hope for. In this case I must insist you remain on _Voyager_. I will be speaking with Commander Tuvok and placing my actions in my Intelligence log."

"I see," Kathryn stood carefully, approaching the officer on the other side of her desk standing at ease. The closer she got, the more the Captain observed. There was nothing at ease about Commander Paris. His body vibrated with energy, as readying himself for some action to his personal detriment. "I can also see you are not going to divulge any further information. Dismissed."

Turning without a word, Tom marched out of Kate's office and back to the con. He scrutinised the initial interactions between _Voyager's_ Captain and her Numiri counterpart. The exchange furthered his distrust of both races as Tom asked himself why the Numiri would seclude the Banean on their home world and the latter's entire economy subsisted of Weapons Research. He would have to be on his guard for the entire away mission. They would need to sneak onto the Banean home world in a small two-man shuttle which increased Tom's level of suspicion further. The whole situation stank. The twentieth century had a saying about fish that came to his mind.

After three cycles he was dragged out of his cell once again. The hours in between were tedious with little to do. The Banean guards wouldn't let him access their computer system, even for entertainment leaving him board with little to do but think about his life on _Voyager_ and his wife. Each recall of Dr. Ren's memories caused increasing levels of pain. The last time, he'd almost passed out. The Banean authorities didn't seem to acknowledge his growing discomfort, or care.

Aware of the half a dozen individuals seated in the office that looked like a councillor's apartment, Tom refused to give away the relationship between himself and Kate. He'd, incorrectly, concluded the Doctor was going to question him again. When he recognised the Starfleet issue patient shoes, Tom's surprise showed.

"Captain," he looked up from the lounge he'd been thrust onto by his guards with an ironic smile.

"Are you all right, Tom?" Kathryn sat close enough for their hips and thighs to touch. Just the feel of her husband after six days caused a sigh to escape her tight control. Of its own volition, a hand curled around his shoulder and gave a quick squeeze, as if they were at the Con on _Voyager_.

"That's a relative term," Tom teased, looking between Kate and Tuvok. Yet the expression faltered for just a moment. "I've been better."

Once again, the Security Officer came to his rescue, asking if the Captain could have a few moments alone with her subordinate. Minister Kray agreed immediately and withdrew. He'd observed the callous way his county men had treated the off-worlder. On Banean, once a man had been punished, that was the end of the matter. Mr. Paris would live with his sentence for the remainder of his life.

"Commander," Tuvok didn't waste a minute, "I assume you did not murder Professor Ren? That the possibility of a situation such as this is the reason you wished to lead this away mission."

"Then how could Dr. Ren's memories identify Tom?" Kathryn asked after her husband nodded silently.

"Were you having improper relations with his wife?" Tuvok demanded, as only a Vulcan can, in a monotone. If looks could kill, Kate would now be the one on charges. It brought a smile to Tom's features which faded just as quickly.

"I observed several pertinent details the Banean justice system refused to consider," Tom stood, feeling the start of another cycle about to start. He could ignore much of the memory. He'd done much worse in the name of the Federation and would do so again, when they caught up with Seska. "Initially the talks were to take place at Dr. Ren's office in the Weapons Research Facility. Mrs. Ren called, arm candy, that's what we'd call her on Earth. Young enough to be Ren's daughter. Anyway, she whined about his lack of courtesy but invited us back to their apartment for evening meal. Once we got there she made a scene about adding something called Rolk to the stew to make enough for four people and how inconsiderate her husband tended to be. Ren agreed that their personalities were polar opposites. It didn't take long to establish that their marriage is over. She told Ren they were finished the same evening he was killed."

"That does not answer my question," Tuvok raised his left eyebrow.

Before Kate could say a work, Tom's anger exploded. "My wife has every reason for the absolute trust she places in me when I am on a mission, Commander. I stated at my so-called trial, I would never betray Kate. I spent some time with Mrs Ren while Harry and the professor were working. My aim was to gather intelligence on the scocio-political situation between the two worlds. Mrs. Ren graduated as a political major but never needed to work due to her fortuitous marriage. Under no circumstance did I reveal my real mission. I played along with her ruse, of looking for a quick fling with an off-worlder. The most damming evidence…"

Collapsing into his wife's arms, Tom could no longer ignore the implanted memories. He needed to tell them about Mrs. Ren refusing to eat the meal but ensuring her dog consumed a lump of the meat like substance to show it was completely safe for human consumption. Commander Paris though the show odd at the time. Unfortunately, he'd fallen for her trap, just as he assumed Harry and Dr. Ren did. It was the only explanation as to why all three would never remember the hours after dinner which allowed this murder to occur. Even with the pain lancing through his cortex, Tom was aware of Kate's hold on him, her cries, demanding to know what was happening. Minister Kray finally releasing him to into the Captain's care and allowing Tom to travel to _Voyager_ to seek medical attention from his own people. He endured the doctors prodding and poking, both in the two cycles and in between when the EMH insisted he remain in sick bay. Tuvok requested permission and was given access to Tom's implanted engrams during a cycle. The Security Office worked tirelessly for over thirty hours to come up with a defence that would stand up against the Banean officials' disbelief of his innocents. The Vulcan insisted on an ARA scan while questioning Tom after a mind Meld to observed the crime. It would come back unblemished, thanks to his training but mostly because he was telling the absolute truth. Finally, Commander Paris was to be transported back to his prison cell via shuttle craft.

"Shuttle to _Voyager_ ," Harry reported. So far everything had gone to plan. "They've locked a tractor beam on us."

"Offer no resistance, Harry," the Captain ordered. Commander Chakotay had been advised of the complete situation and how they were using Mr. Paris as bait. The senior bridge officers looked at each other, understanding Tuvok's plan was the final fact they needed to absolutely prove Tom's innocence.

On the main screen, the bridge crew watched the shuttlecraft being dragged towards the stern of the Numiri patrol ship. Three aliens entered via the hatch with a tricorder type device in their hands. The one holding the equipment indicated Tom was the person they were looking for. Before they could apprehend the man, both Commander Paris and Ensign Kim disappeared in a beam of light. If the look on their faces were any indication, the Numiri did not possess transporter technology. The meeting with Minister Kray absolved Thomas Paris of the crime. Tom could have kicked himself for not considering the Banean symbols appearing at the bottom of his implanted engrams as important. That had been the key and thankfully Tuvok had their realised the importance.

"Tuvok," Tom offered quietly. As usual the Vulcan sat alone in the Senior Officer's mess unless he wished to speak of the Captain's welfare with her husband. On this occasion, after having the Banean device removed and being returned to _Voyager_ , Tom wanted to thank the Security officer for his dedication.

"Mr. Paris," that eyebrow once again rose.

"There are some who'd say you risked my future on the eyewitness identification of a dog," Tom teased lightly. If anyone on board Voyager understood Commander Paris's unique training and abilities, it was this very logical and silent man, now looking at him with an unreadable expression. However, the glint in Tuvok's eyes, Tom hoped, was a sigh of understanding and trust.

"It seemed a necessary step to ensure a truthful resolution," he stated easily. "I conducted a criminal investigation. If you had been guilty, I assure you I would have pursued the truth just as vigilantly."

"But," Tom took the seat across the table, "that's the material point, isn't it, Commander? We both knew I was innocent, that the opportunity between two warring factions was ideal for some form of mischief."

"The only data we were missing," Tuvok concluded, finally getting a glimpse into the Intelligence Operative mind, "was why?"

"How come I always see you down here eating alone?" Tom enquired, feeling the time for thanks had passed with the unemotional Vulcan and they'd come to an understanding without the aid of words.

"I prefer to read rather than engage in, what do humans call it? Short talk?" came the succinct response.

"Close enough. You don't make many friends that way. Nor does the Captain with Kate attempting to keep a distance between herself and the crew. I would be a shame if you couldn't demonstrate your long-standing acquaintance in a more social environment, Commander. My wife doesn't have many people she can trust and relax around, but I think you might just be one of them."

"You point has been well taken, Mr. Paris," Tuvok allowed that eyebrow to go even further heavenward. "I might even enjoy your company from time to time."

"And I'll take that as a ringing endorsement," Tom smiled, digging into the meal on his tray. "I have to admit, the food in the Banean prison was more appetising."

"But would it be worth remainder of your life?" Tuvok spoke quietly, intently watching the man seated before him.

"Nothing would be worth leaving Kate," Tom spat, flinging his fork down.

"Nothing?" A knowing smile, or at least what would pass for one on the Vulcan's face, flittered over his features and was gone in an instant.

If Tom hadn't known better, two thoughts would have hit him at the same instant. Firstly, Tuvok had a sense of humour. Secondly, the Tactical officer knew it would be necessary, at some point in the future, for Commander Paris to leave Voyager and clean up the Seska mess.

"Humans have a great propensity for self-denial," the Security Officer remarked suddenly and off handedly. "However, if in the event you are forced to spend time away from this ship, have no doubt, as one married man to another, that I will endeavour to ensure your wife's wellbeing."

"The way Kate talks about you," Tom finally smiled, "I don't doubt it, Tuvok." The fact he'd been allowed to call the Vulcan by his name without rank or a salutation spoke volumes. The two men would work together with more proficiency and trust in the future.

* * *

 **AN:** I had to add Ex Post Facto into this story and not as a stand-alone because it's a vehicle to demonstrate the two very different personalities of Tom Paris. It also jells well with cannon and spending time in 'prison', only Kathryn doesn't know about it in this version. Anyone who has been involved with a Special Operations individual will tell you they put that professional side of themselves away when at home. I am using the personality of my father who trained with the SAS on which to base this persona that makes up the other half of Tom. It also feeds nicely into my final chapters. Unfortunately, this means I'll be playing with the episode sequence to fit my plot. There are a couple of other scenes that scream to be added before Investigations and Basics. To that end, Threshold, most notably, will occur after those second season episodes, and some, such as Time and Again and Parturition never occurred at all, but I'll let you know in an **AN** if that's the case. Until the next chapter, Merry Christmas and may you all experience a prosperous and happy New Year.


	22. Deception

**Part Twenty-Two: Deception.**

 **AN:** I've just re-watched Prime Factors and I can't help but do a little Kate and Tom bonding/jealousy/four personalities trying to coexist. Gath is just so, well, all over the Captain while Tom waits for her on a nearby bench. Funny I didn't see that the first three or four times I watched the episode. Interesting what you uncover when you're looking for a particular slant to place on characters. This episode just lends itself so well to a little exploration. I hope you enjoy as much as I have writing.

In re-watching, the first season was actually well written in terms of continuity. Therefore, some of you might be happy to know there will be at least another five parts before I decide what to do with this story. I muse is shouting and won't let me stop to consider anything else.

* * *

"I think it's finally beginning to happen," Kathryn had a smile on her lips as she lunched in the Senior mess with her husband and Tactical Officer.

In the weeks since Tom's return from Banean, the Commanders joined her at every opportunity making breakfast and lunch times less lonely. The evening meal was reserved solely for the Paris family, except twice a week when the four senior officers ate in the Captain's private quarters. On the odd occasion, her Frist Officer sacrificed himself, usually when her husband had other duties to attend and became her escort. The animosity between the two men persisted, however they'd come to some kind of working arrangement. Just what the details, Kathryn didn't really want to know but suspected it had something to do with the private holodeck time they'd spent discussion her .

Today, Chakotay remained on the bridge, preferring to take his meal break at the same time as Mike Ayala. The group had spoken of the increasing closeness between the two former Maquis colleagues, especially with the breach left by Tom's defection. Commander Paris's professional opinion considered the relationship as protective. Ayala, as Chakotay's new right-hand man wouldn't make a move until authorised nor would he allow any former Maquis the freedom to destroy their chance at taking _Voyager_ from the Fleeters. The Captain and Commander's knew of the aborted mutiny six weeks previously and the reason why it had been stopped before ever really starting. Every member of the crew was still hurting at the impossibility of using the short cut back to the Alpha quadrant.

"Both crews seem to be getting along," the Captain pointed out the group of Engineers and Operations officers laughing together. Of course, Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres lead the gathering.

"That kind of bonding," Tuvok allowed his eyebrow to rise slightly, signalling his agreement, "should improve performance and maximise efficiency."

"In a manner of speaking," Tom added quickly and quietly. The good natured and friendly flirting between Lt. Torres and Ensign Kim was great to see. Their relationship had grown as the months passed. Harry was still pining over his girlfriend, Libby. B'Elanna told Paris the kid was planning to propose after completing his first mission. It made Tom appreciate having his wife on board and feel for those who had left partners and spouses so far behind. "The former Maquis are still meeting every ten to twelve days on the Holodeck, sans our Engineer. However, I'm sure Lt. Torres gets her information from Hogan or Jonas once they return to Engineering. The talk of overtaking the ship has decreased since Seska's escape."

"Are you continuing to shoulder the blame for that incident, Commander," Kathryn asked, her tone particularly gravely. Whenever the Cardassian spy's name was mentioned, Tom became morose.

Tom answered with a dirty look before throwing his spoon into the sludge on his plate. "It's going to come back to bit us in the arse!"

"Another of your twentieth century euphemisms?" suggested Tuvok.

"Oh, believe me," the Captain smiled with delight, "he has plenty to go around. I want to know the general feeling of the original crew, how they're managing their teaching responsibilities."

"Coping, mostly. Jenny and Megan Delaney have taken Valarie Canamar under their wing. I'm not sure it's to Val's advantage, those two are creating quiet a name for themselves with the male crew. There are a few others forming real friendships, but in general no one's getting along better any anyone else. No matter how well the officers and crew are trying to live together, there are significant social and ideological differences that will never be overcome."

"I'm sure they will," the Captain stated harshly, as if she could bring this about by shear will power alone. "It's going to be a long seventy-five years if we can't come to some arrangement."

"I believe the current shared structure will incorporate this new dynamic," Tuvok stated dispassionately, "with effort required on all sides."

"I couldn't have put it better," Tom finally grinned. "You need to understand the divide will away be there, simmering just under the surface. The former Maquis will learn to do things the Starfleet way, about half have already certified in their field of speciality. A third are working independently, the rest are learning, slowly."

"How long do you perceive this process to take?" Tuvok enquired thoughtfully.

"At least a year, possibly two. I don't think it's really sunk in yet," Tom sighed, "that we may not find an easy solution to getting home. Everyone's still hanging onto hope." Glancing across at Harry Kim, the Commander knew the Captain took his meaning.

"Some more than others," Kathryn suggested.

"Bridge to Captain," Chakotay's voice came over the ship wide comm.

"Go ahead," she answered, rolling her eyes. In truth, Kathryn wanted to stay and talk with her most senior and trusted officers. Even though Tom and Tuvok had made more of an effort to speak with her regularly and she appreciated the gesture, they didn't always have the luxury of time.

"We're receiving a distress call in one of the lower subspace bands," the Commander stated.

"I'm on my way, Captain out." Kathryn picked up her half-finished meal. Looking to the man beside her and one on the other side of the table, she added, "looks like lunch is over, gentleman."

"It's always work, work, and more work with you, Captain," Tom smirked mockingly.

It turned out to be pleasure the Sikari wanted to shower on the crew of _Voyager_. Invited to their home world, the Captain ordered the Helm to follow Gath's ship. The presents he'd offered on behalf of his people turned out to be all manner of delicacies. Arriving on the planet with an away team turned into a very satisfying surprise after all the bad luck Voyager had encountered since landing in the Delta quadrant.

"If you see anything you like, just let me know," Gath offered easily.

Gazing into the square, Tom sat on a bench, watching his wife escorted by the Sikari officials. He'd come on ahead of the party while they conducted the official welcome. Commander Paris internally smiled, watching Gath attempting to seduce his wife. Kate was having none of it but it didn't stop Gath trying.

"What is this material?" Kathryn allowed her fingers to touch and run through the exquisite cloth. "It's so delicate."

"It's the latest import from Vedestris," Gath smiled easily. "It's spun from the petals of a flower that blooms only in moonlight. Shall I have a dress made for you?"

"It's lovely," the scientist in the Captain was calculating the distance between their current location and Vedestris. Given her husband a signal, Tom trotted over to join them. His degree from Starfleet in astrophysics would give him more of an idea.

"Gath was just telling me about this fabric," Kathryn's hand strayed to the textile again. "It's from a system called Vedestris. Do you know of it?"

"There is no need," Gath's smile lost a little brightness. "This is my associate, Jaret Otel. You may contact him, Commander, to make any necessary enquiries concerning this region of space."

"Thank you," Tom acknowledged the man with a nod before returning his attention to Gath. "It is very difficult for my…Captain to accept a gift. I have known her for over twenty years, since I was a child. Even then, she could hardly accept a compliment."

"Thank you, Mr. Paris, I believe you'd said enough," Kathryn didn't know if she should feel delighted her husband seemed a little jealous or disappointed not to be getting a new dress. "I'm afraid I won't be able to accept any large personal gestures, Gath."

"Perhaps something small," he tried again, pushing between Tom and Kate, "such as a scarf? But what a curious people you are. Tell me would it help if I said that you could have an entire wardrobe made from these beautiful fabrics and that it would give all of us great pleasure to create it for you."

"I'm afraid not," Kathryn couldn't help but be impressed at the man's audacity. Tom's face turned stoic. It seemed he was about to laugh a moment ago but covered his amused expression at her glare. Her husband knew her too well. Gath's insistence and generosity were embarrassing Captain Paris.

"Which cloth do you prefer?" Gath redirected the woman's attention to the display.

"Something green," Tom spoke in a tone similar to that Tuvok would use. When Gath turned to examine the man still standing a step behind them, Commander Paris responded without the hint of an expression on his face, "I believe it will bring out the colour in your eyes, Captain."

"An excellent suggestion," Gath smiled, obviously feeling the officer was no threat to his plans.

"Oh, I think this one," Kathryn chose the one she knew her husband preferred.

"When I see you wearing that scarf," Gath's expression seemed to glow, "my pleasure will be greater than yours."

 _I think not,_ Kathryn didn't allow her thoughts to be expressed on her face _. You don't know my husband. I'm sure he'll find some very inventive ways to draw as much pleasure out of me with this scarf that doesn't involve tying me up._ A shiver passed along her mental spine at the reflection _. Tom learnt that lesson very early in our relationship. It hurt him terribly, not considering my incarceration with the Cardassian's and the effects of his unthinking actions._

"Well," the Captain stated in a sudden change of mood, "we should get back. With your permission, I'd like to start organising teams to gather plants and seeds."

"I'll be glad to assist you in any way, Captain," the assistant chimed in, "but I believe the Commander and I can discuss such tedious arrangements."

"Tonight," Gath spoke, his attention once again focused on the Captain, "we are having a celebration here. I hope you and your officers will be my guests."

"We'd be delighted," Kathryn accepted on behalf of her crew. "However, I hope you don't mind if I bring my husband. Tom?"

Commander Paris watched the Sikari official's face fall for just a moment and in that instant, he almost caught something deeper in the man's expression. "I am at your disposal, Captain."

The following day, her ships larder stocked, their energy supplies replenished to even B'Elanna's satisfaction and each member of her crew granted a twenty-four hour leave pass, Kathryn Paris and her entire crew should be ecstatically pleased. The only unhappy crewman was her husband. Tom had taken exception to Gath and the time his wife was forced to spend with him alone after the party last evening. Kathryn believe him to be jealous. Gath was nothing if not attentive and Tom had shown himself capable of possessiveness in the past. The incident with Justin came to mind. Yet, Gath continued to play the lothario, knowing Kathryn was married. It did not demonstrate good principles on his species behalf.

"It's not that I dislike the man especially," Tom tried to put his finger on the feeling. Realising his mood was upsetting his wife, Commander Paris placed that personality firmly where it belonged. Finding his incorrigible character, he teased, "besides, if the man's after you, he has to have good taste. It's just that he's too old for you, Kate. You go for the handsome, young ones that answer back and can show you a great time, not just a good one."

"Your impossible," Kathryn shook her head and threw a pillow from the couch in their quarters at her husband. Sighing, she really looked at Tom. He was trying to figure out this puzzle. Patting the seat beside her, he came like a puppy, placing an arm around her shoulders and pulling Kate close.

"I'm worried," Tom announced easily. He found the words coming effortlessly within his wife in his embrace. "It's too much, to perfect. The society built completely on pleasure. That's not sustainable in the long term. There must be negative emotions but I haven't seen a single person express them. Where are the labours at the bottom of the pyramid, toiling away to make all those products? No society can survive without a working class, not even in the Federation with our transporters and replicators."

"You have a point," Kathryn had been so impressed by the Sikari and their society, she hadn't though this deeply about them. It seemed the compulsory professional and personal time they spent together made Mr. and Mrs. Paris exposure to each other novel in so many ways. "I'm learning more about you, Tom, that I didn't know I didn't know. Why is that?"

"Exposure," he chuckled. "We'd only just been married on O _lympia_ and it took all of our off-duty time to discover who we were individually and as a couple in those early years. We were different people back then. I think is speaks well of our relationship, our ability to change and contend with all the ups and downs. Now, we live and work together again. There's very little time or space between us, which can be both good and bad."

"No," Kathryn finally broke the closeness, something they'd always had to really examine the man, "it's more than that. I hadn't noticed before, but you constantly analyse. I didn't know you thought about things so deeply. On the surface your always so casual and seemingly superficial, but that's not the real you, is it Tom? Somehow I've missed this side of your personality completey."

"I am that happy, careless man," he agreed, "most of the time. Then something catches my attention and I can't stop thinking about it. I guess that's what makes me a good Intelligence officer."

"Once you have something on your radar," Kathryn completed the sentence for him, "you can't let go. I don't know why I've never notice it before. Even on Jupiter station, you didn't show this part of yourself very often."

"I didn't have to. My job was mind numbingly boring. I just wanted to be with you," he stated easily. There was no recrimination, just a statement of fact. He'd been willing to give up a lot more to once again share a home with his wife. "It was enough, after being apart for years. I would have given up Starfleet altogether if I had to."

"I'm glad you didn't," Kathryn moved to pull Tom into her arms this time. "I can't conceive of being lost out here without you. Look, Gath's in interesting individual, but, your right, there's something about him, something I can't quite put my finger on. Perhaps it being so pleasure bent all the time."

"Getting back to the Sikari, how do they keep the Nistrum from their planetary space?" Commander Paris wondered. "And just how far dose the space extend? Vedestris is almost five hundred light years toward the galactic centre. We know the Borg are in this region. Have they ever encountered them? And if so, how do they protect themselves?"

"Those are good questions," the Captain's problems suddenly started mounting. "I think you need to come with me tomorrow and observe Gath. Maybe your training will pick up something I'm missing."

 _Their uninterested,_ Tom suddenly understood. His wife and Gath were walking several steps ahead of him, stopping every few paces to examine some good or service. _Even the shop keeps look jaded. Then again who wouldn't be in a utopian society. What new entertainments are there, expect for visitors who might provide something new._

"You don't need to tell me," the Captain approached her husband several days later. The look, expression and way she held herself demonstrated Kathryn's professionalism. "I think I managed to figure this one out on my own."

"Nice use of twentieth century slang," Tom grinned. "Something is rubbing off on you."

"Tom, stop," Kate laughed. "Come on, let's see what Harry's so excited about."

"He almost looks giddy enough to have found a way home!" Tom exclaimed, little knowing how close to the truth his jibe came.

The space folding technology was denied, even though it would get them half way home. The Captain could understand, her own actions reliant on Starfleet's guiding principle of the Prime Directive. Yet, she didn't like the shoe being on the other foot and it made her think of all the times she'd blindly followed protocol. The Captain and her husband found themselves emotionally debriefing in their private copy of Sandrine's after a senior officers meeting to discuss the situation. Together they'd came up with a plan to ask the Sikari to send them as far as possible in the direction of Earth in exchange for Voyager's library of literature. Tom's quiet investigations uncovered a multitude of inconsistences in the Sikarin society, suggesting this would not be acceptable.

"I don't think they will allow it, Kate," Tom stated mournfully. "I don't think they really want to let us go. That initial distress call, it was calculated and aimed directly at us, as if the magistrates and officials had been studying our culture, our history here in the Delta quadrant. They lured us to their planet. Every conversation about returning home is cut off, we are distracted by their seeming simplicity. Yet, they have replicators and transporters, or the equitant which are far more sophisticated than anything in the Alpha quadrant. Their technology, law, politics, health and every other aspect of their society is more advanced than anything in the Federation. What could they possibly want from us?"

"That's a good question," Kathryn signed.

As Tom confidently predicted to his wife, diplomacy failed. Harry Kim had been approached by a man called Jaret, Gath's assistant. He intended to swap _Voyager's_ literary library for the space folding matrix. His motive, to improve his position in Sikari society which further proved Commander Paris's suspicions that all was not well on the seemingly perfect planet. Tom, who happened to be in the right place at the right time, heard the junior officers discussing the elicit deal.

"You know this is not above board," Commander Paris invited himself into the discussion. "I might the Captain's husband, but I know Kathryn as you don't. She's the highest-ranking officer on _Voyager_. Starfleet dictates she must follow protocol, so the Captain is only going to deal with an official representative. No matter how much she wishes to appropriate this technology, all Starfleet Captain's must follow procedure."

"I knew you'd say that," spat a fleeter, one of the two who's beaten him several months ago.

"And I expecte someone willing to circumnavigate Starfleet regulations to get their point across, would also explore any possibility, no matter how morally reprehensible," Tom ensured he held the man's gaze long enough for the others at the table to put two and two together. Rumours had run rampant in the days following the physical warning aimed at the intelligence officer. "There is a right way to go about this, and a wrong way. Harry, I'm telling you, from someone who's been married to Kathryn for ten years and known her almost my whole life, just tell her everything you know. Let her take it from there."

Nodding his understanding, Harry stood.

"I'll walk you. I was headed for my wife's ready room and try to get her come home for the night," Tom attempted a slight smile.

He stood at ease in the Ready room as Ensign Kim divulged his story. Commander Paris watched the Captain process the information as hope began to shine in his wife's eyes. Tom also understood when she dismissed him to speak with Tuvok. Captain Kathryn Paris needed to check in with her moral compass. For obvious reasons, the person could not be her husband. Then, Tom waited for her in their personal copy of Sandrine'. He made love to Kate before allowing the Captain cry herself to sleep as the weight of this decision crushed the life from her. It was a fight between the two very distinct women and one Commander and Mr. Paris understood only too well.

Unsettled by her final meeting with Gath, Captain Kathryn Paris comm'ed Chakotay to get the away teams off the surface as quickly as possible. She then all but ordered her husband to their quarters. By the time Tom reached deck three, Kate was out of her uniform and fuming. He attempted to reach for her, only to have the woman avoid his embrace.

"Do you have any idea what that man said to me?" she demanded.

"Tell me," Tom offered softly, knowing his wife needed to get this off her chest.

"Why are you so consumed with this desire to get home?" Kathryn seethed, stalking around the living room, hands flying through the air in an effort to expunge her fury. "I told him it's where we belong. But he wanted to know why we couldn't create a new home on Sikari, expecting us find his world most delightful place to live, where we could pass our time extracting pleasure from every moment."

"Can I guess," Tom interrupted her triad. Kate seemed to be tiring as her hands settled onto her hips. Commander Paris took this as a sign he could talk. "You asked 'for how long?'. We've both seen how quickly the Sikari get tired of any pleasure that's not new and unexplored."

"Tom, he just doesn't, what is your term, get it!" Kate slumped onto the lounge. Coming to sit beside her, Tom dared to place an arm across his wife's shoulders. That she let him, meant the woman required emotional support. "The Silari just don't understand the concept of permanence. The reward of relationships that endure and grow deeper with the passing of time. The fact Gath could continue to pursue me when he knew we'd been married ten years tells a lot about his pleasure-seeking society."

"I guess some might learn to enjoy those notions if they stayed," Tom offered with a shrug. "It has a certain appeal, remember when you were younger. Every society has time period where their youth want to explore, discover, experiment. But then we grow up. A very smart woman once told me that."

This brought a smile to Kate's lips, as she remembered the conversation from so long ago. Tom had barely been seventeen at the time, and in some ways, more romantically savvy than herself. "Your right. And that's why we have to leave. No one on this ship is a teenager any more. We have family, responsibility. While the offer of hospitality was wonderful, it's time to go. I'm just sorry I couldn't illustrate the differences between us and the Sikari better."

"Pleasure, that's all they really care about," Tom sighed, kissing the top of his wife's head. "All that hospitality and graciousness, it was never about giving us pleasure. It's self-gratification. I'm afraid _Voyager_ and her crew didn't turn out to be the latest novelty the Sikari expected."

"They never had any intention of helping us," Kathryn stated mournfully.

"Some did," Tom reminded her. "What did Tuvok say? I know how much you rely on the man for your moral guidance. You'd be a fool not to, after serving on the same vessels for so many years."

"He suggested I have two choices. Continue to negotiate with a man who may have a hidden agenda, or deal with a man who is willing to defy his own laws," Kathryn said. "Neither palatable. There's a certain standard I have to uphold as the Captain. Principles, that's what it comes down to. Do I compromise my almighty principles? But how do I not compromise them if it involves a chance to get the crew more than half way home. How do I tell them my principles are so important that I would deny them that opportunity?"

"Kate," Tom turned her around so he could gaze into her troubled soul while he delivered his own opinion. "In accepting your principles, you are also denying yourself."

"And, by extension," she understood, saw it in her husbands' eyes and knew how hard this decision would be on all of them, "you and our son."

"It was never going to be easy, juggling the needs of our relationship under these circumstances," Tom's quiet tone made an arrow of regret pierce her heart, "but in this instance, we have to consider the good of more than the four distinct personalities we're trying to juggle. There are one hundred and forty others on Voyager, carrying their own hopes and fears."

"What do I do?" Kate demanded.

"I don't know," Tom pulled her back into his arms. "Honestly, I wish I knew and could absolve you of making the decision at all."

As it turned out, he had a very good idea once Commander Paris was allowed a few moments to consider the situation. When Chakotay called from the bridge an hour later, Kate apologised but felt she had to return to duty. It gave Commander Paris the time he needed to put his plan into action.

"I take full responsibility for what happened," B'Elanna stood before the Captain's desk in the ready room after the illicit trade had been made and the matrix found incompatible with Federation technology.

"Lt. Torres is not precisely correct, Captain," Tuvok announced, standing besdie the Chief Engineer. "She was not the senior officer involved, I was."

Startled by this confession, Kathryn dealt with B'Elanna immediately. After dismissing the woman, she turned to Tuvok. Wordlessly, she didn't quite know how to respond to this act from her very logical Tactical officer. The Captain felt betrayed on all sides, especially as she'd made her position very clear less than three hours previously.

"I don't even know where to start," Kathryn stood, paced around her desk and wore a mixture of frustration and dismay. "I want you to explain to me how you, of all people, could be involved in this."

"It is quite simple, Captain. You have made it clear on many occasions that your highest goal for the crew is to get them home. But in this instance, your standards would not allow you to violate Sikarian law," Tuvok watched dispassionate as he prepared to drop his bombshell. "Commander Paris understood someone had to spare you the ethical dilemma and so, came to me with a plan to appropriate the matrix. Although your husband initially wanted to be the person to make the exchange, I was the logical choice, and so I chose to replace him."

"You did it for me because you knew I couldn't," Kathryn watched on in horror as the full ramifications became apparent. "Because my relationship with my husband would have been damaged, perhaps beyond repair with this kind of betrayal had he been the one to make that trade."

"You are correct. I could not allow Commander Paris to place himself in such a situation. I have observed, your relationship to your husband is a protective factor to your command, both under these extreme circumstances and on prior occasions," Tuvok remained stoic in the presence of his Captains continued shock and disappointment.

"You are one of my most valued officers and you are my friend. It is vital that you understand me here. I need Tom in my life and we're slowly come to terms with this new normal, but I need you as well. You both serve a different purpose for me," pausing to let her words sink in, to completely understand them herself, Kathryn glared at the man standing before her. "I also need to know that I can count on the both of you. You are my ethical counsel, the one I turn to when I need my moral compass checked. We have forged this relationship for years and I depend on it. I realise you made a sacrifice for me, for my marriage, but it's not one I would have allowed you to make. You can use logic to justify almost anything. That's it's power, and it's flaw. From now on, bring your logic to me. Don't act on it behind my back."

"You have my word," Tuvok found himself strangely wordless and unsettled. "My logic was not in error, but I was. I will do everything in my power to see your marriage to Commander Paris remains intact, Captain. It may be the only mechanism available to you keeping your sanity when other such decisions way so heavily on your shoulders. I am convinced the longer we travel through this quadrant, it will become increasingly apparent such judgements will not be easy nor unique."

"I hope you are incorrect," Kathryn really didn't want to face another such disappointment in the near future. Within six weeks, her crew had come close to returning to the Alpha quadrant on two occasions, only to be disappointed. Yet, if they were to be out here for any length of time, it would be imprudent to consider this kind of ethical dilemma as an exception rather than the rule. Still, it did not absolve Tuvok nor Tom of the part they played in this most demoralising betrayal.

"I will be speaking with the other half of your logic," Kathryn hissed, not happy with her husband. She'd already considered something like this. They'd survived one incident but even Kate Paris didn't know how many times Mr. Paris could get away with disobeying the Captain and live to tell the tale. "Dismissed."

"You're not happy with me," Tom stated the moment his wife entered their quarters. He'd been awaiting a summons to her Ready room for a formal dressing down. "But we're not going to take about it here Kate. You should have called me to the bridge."

"I considered that," came the terse reply. "The trouble is, I understand why you did it and why Tuvok wouldn't let you."

"This wasn't the first time," Tom said, both determined and contrite, "and it won't be the last that Commander Paris and the Captain are at odds with each other. We have to find a way to ameliorate all the hurt we're going to cause the relationship between Mr. and Mrs. Paris. I won't lose you Kate, I love you too much. I want to finish this journey with you, no matter what we face."

"Then promise me we'll face this together," she demanded. "Not more going to Tuvok to save me from myself."

Nodding, Tom agreed. "You're not going to like it. I'm not sure I am either. All I can promise is to try. There are somethings, you don't want to know, that I'm not willing to burden you with, Kate. I hate myself enough for what I've done in the name of the Federation and their almighty principles. I don't want you to suffer the same fate, although I don't think you're going to have a choice, especially after this visit to the Sikari."

Finally understanding dawned. Captain Paris was, perhaps for the first time in her life, catching up to her husband. "That's what you meant, the day you said I don't want this darkness in our lives any longer. It's time for some uncomplicated happiness."

"Yes," came the mournful response.

This time it was Kate Paris who consoled her husband. He'd colluded with Tuvok because he knew, knew what it was like to face the kinds of issues Sikari raised. He hadn't tried to save her, he'd wanted to take away that emotional burden that would never leave. For the first time, when she looked into those blue orbs, Mrs. Kate Paris saw the Commander lurking in the depths. He was always there, ready and waiting to come out but Tom controlled his alter ego, most of the time.

* * *

 **AN:** in re-watching this episode, I begin to see how powerful it is. The addition of my AU, I hope has only made it more so. It was too good a vehicle not to include and increased the dynamic between Tom and Kate so well. I think the Captain is finally beginning to truly understand the man she married. I have always seen Tom Paris as an under sung hero. Please leave a review and tell me what you think. I believe this is my personal favourite chapter so far.

O


	23. State of Flux

**Part Twenty-Three: State of Flux.**

 **AN:** It goes without saying, there must be many changes to this episode. Initially I thought it might be a little shorter as Seska has already defected, but that hasn't proved the case. It seems my chapters are actually getting longer. Anyway, we know much of Seska's vitriol was directed towards Captain Paris earlier in the story, so I'm not going to rehash those aspects. However, you might see several ties into earlier parts. I love doing that, throwing in a red herring, or something that seems like one. With that established, it's on with the show.

* * *

"How about we take a sample for the Doc to test," Chakotay sounded calm, while trying to dispel Neelix's predictions of a dire death if they ate the apple look alike. Anything would be better than the Leola root their cook was so fond of. Even introducing Crewman Hu to aid the Talaxian and familiarising him to more human tastes, that blasted root continued to be a mainstay of their meals. "There might be a difference in physiology between Humans and Talaxians, or a cooking method which will make the hazardous chemical inert."

"There is a reason why those trees a full of fruit," Neelix stated. "There isn't one species in this region that can stomach those Kaylos."

"And a reason why this field is still filled with Leola root?" Carey demanded, glaring at the man who made him, and more to the point, his stomach, suffer. Remembering a story told by his wife's Japanese father, the Lieutenant smiled. "There is this fish, called the poison Puffer, which is considered a delicacy in Japan. If you just cook it, it'll kill within minutes. However, there are these chefs, Uosei I think they're called, who train in the art of preparing it for years to make it editable."

"Puffer fish," Chakotay repeated the word with a shake of his head and half smirk. As a vegetarian, he didn't really see the point, except to convince their cook that this line of enquiry could be worth examining. "See, Neelix, there might be a way to make the Kaylo palatable and expand your repertoire. Why don't you beam up, Mr. Carey, and see what the Doc has to say before we finish up for the day? Oh, and see if there is any other editable plants Neelix has discarded for similar reasons. We need to increase our selection wherever possible."

"Aye, Sir," the engineer swiped the fruit from the First officer and was moving to the drop zone before Neelix could protest.

" _Voyager_ to Away team," Chakotay's com chirped to life. As the highest-ranking officer, he was automatically in charge of the foraging expedition. In this particular case, the interruption couldn't have come at a better time.

"Go ahead," Chakotay couldn't keep the smile from his face. Their Leola loving cook would have to gather the awful root alone as few crewmen would help. The Officer still didn't think the Talaxian would get the hint.

"Any unexpected life signs down there, Commander?" Captain Paris asked in a slightly concerned tone.

Instantly on alert, Chakotay scanned the area with is tricorder. "Only an interesting variety of bloodworm," he responded when the analysis showed nothing. "Neelix wants to bring some back to make a tartar. I'm trying to talk him out of it."

Rolling her eyes at the mere thought of another Delta quadrant delicacy, the Captain turned to her rules and regulations. "I'm afraid animals of any description aren't permitted on a starship, nor is undercooked protein from a living source. The tribble episode on the original Enterprise became legendary at the Academy."

"I well remember," that bought a smile to Chakotay's face. He could hear Tom Paris, along with others on the bridge chuckle in the background. He now had a very good excuse to deny Neelix's suggestion and they all knew it.

"It seems we're sharing planet space with an unidentified ship in low orbit," Kathryn stated, returning to a business-like demeanour. "Collect your teams and prepare to transport back while we investigate."

"Acknowledged," Chakotay sighed. Although every available person was collecting organics, they'd only managed to amassed a week's rations for the two galleys and almost one hundred and fifty hungry mouths, which would make supplies tight in the near future. "Have the cargo transporter chief stand by. I want to get these supplies up at the same time as the teams."

"And before Neelix adds any more Leola root. Bridge out," the Captain signed off with a slight smile gracing her lips. After Seska used the dammed plant to escape the brig several weeks ago, the crew had made the vegatable into a running joke. Finally returning her attention to the computer beside her seat, Kathryn was distracted by the odd movements from the man at the helm.

"Captain," Tom turned in this seat to face his wife. She allowed an eyebrow to rise, wondering what was coming. Commander Paris had that expression on his face, one that stated he was analysing data at a very rapid rate. She'd only seen it a few times, but it usually spelt trouble for her ship. "There was a trick the Maquis used on occasion to hide from Federation patrols. Funny, it never worked on the Cardassian's, which means Seska might have been the one to suggest the low orbit concealment. It could have been the method _Val Jean_ used above the Ocampan world when the Kazon-Olga only attacked _Voyager_. It would explain why we were assaulted and why we can't get a visual on that ship."

"Especially," Kathryn added ironically, "if Seska's with the Kazon."

"Captain," Tuvok broke into the conversation, "I believe a polaron burst may give us visual contact."

"My thoughts exactly," Tom smiled, returning his attention to his display.

"Make it so, gentleman." Standing, the Captain approached the helm, her eyes glued to the forward screen. As the burst detonated, a Kazon-Nistrum ship flashed into existence then disappeared just a quickly. "I believe you expected that, Commander's?"

"Aye, Captain," Tuvok answered.

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom responded.

"Well," returning to her chair to consider this new information, Captain Paris stated, "I guess this answer's, without a doubt, the current location of our escaped prisoner. Not that we expected anything else. Ensign Kaplan, scan all subspace frequencies. I want to know what that ship is doing in orbit around an uninhabited planet, especially the same one we're circling. With Seska possibly on board, this cannot be a coincidence. Tuvok, keep weapons and shields at the ready. I want to be prepared for anything. And get those away teams off that planet, now. Forget the consumables it you have to."

"Aye, Captain," Tuvok acknowledged the order. He'd once again pre-empted his long-time friend and commenced the actions without orders.

"Captain," Kaplan called from the operations station a few minutes later, "I have a repeating transmission from the Kazon vessel. It's not on the usual Federation bandwidth. I can only assume it's the frequency the Kazon-Nistrim use."

Kathryn was out of her seat again. "I want a constant background alert added to the communications nexus. Have the computer alert the operations officer the moment we receive any transmissions on that frequency in future, Ensign. Yellow alert. Mr. Tuvok bring weapons to ready. Mr. Paris, take us one hundred thousand kilometres from this world once all our people are off that planet," she barked before calling for the computer. "Captain Paris to all senior officers. Please report to the Bridge."

It didn't take long for Chakotay and Kim to enter from the turbolift. Neelix accompanied them as he's beamed up at the same time. They were the last personnel to leave the planet. Taking the bench seat to the Captain's right, the Talaxian watched the fuzzy image come to life. Eyes squinting, Neelix concentrated on the recording.

"We require help. Immediately. Anyone who can hear this message, please help," pleaded a Kazon. Identical to their Ogla counterparts, there didn't seem to be a difference between the physical aspects of the sects. However, this man was obviously hurt and his surroundings chaotic. "We need immediate assistance. We have lost all bridge operations. Barely able to function. Please assist." Thereafter, the message repeated as if on a loop.

"Captain," Neelix looked ill at ease, "this may be a trap. The Kazon-Nistrim are one of the most violent sects in the entire collective. At present, I believe they are also the strongest with more ships than any other."

"Ensign Kim," Kathryn requested, "can you determine if that ship has sustained genuine damage?"

The operation station indicated a possible reactor breakdown, but couldn't be more specific at this distance. The helm couldn't find any other Nistrim ships in the immediate area. In the minutes since first detecting the vessel, it hadn't moved from a geosynchronous orbit.

"I take your warning seriously, Mr. Neelix, and we'll act with caution," the Captain offered in a quiet tone as she considered her next move, "but if we can help we should. Besides, this may be an opportunity to uncover what occurred to our escaped prisoner. We can't allow Seska to remain with the Kazon, especially with her knowledge of Alpha quadrant technology. It could be devastating to the Kazon and any other people in this sector."

None of the senior staff wanted to continue the Captain's thoughts. Federation technology, apart from strengthening the Nistrim's position within the Kazon, and therefore this region of space, might not be congruent with anything from this quadrant. If _Voyager_ had learnt one lesson from the Sikari, it was the incompatibility of technology developed independently using local resources. B'Elanna had almost breached the warp core by attempting to integrate the trajectory matrix into the Engineering systems. It took more than a week to repair the damage. As penance, the Chief had done most of the work herself.

"Commander Tuvok, take a full security detail and beam over to the Kazon ship," ordered the Captain after arranging for the helm to approach slowly, operations to continuously monitor the vessel and completing several close-range scans. It seemed the ship was in desperate shape, with hull breaches on several decks, no active propulsion systems and life support barely functioning. "Chakotay, if Seska is on that ship…"

Nodding, the First Officer understood his Captain's reluctance to place him in such a position. However, Chakotay's expression told another story, he felt responsible for bringing this situation about and would like the opportunity to correct it personally. Due to the relationship required between a Captain and her First Officer, they'd been working to improve their rapport. Tom, understanding the necessity, continued to create further opportunities and actively ignored Chakotay's animosity. Today, that persistence payed off as the former Maquis didn't argue the point.

"I will take Ensign Ayala," Tuvok commented from his station, "and Lt. Torres."

A few minutes later the away team transported to the Kazon ships bridge, only to find themselves in almost total darkness. Only a few scattered panels still functioned. Overhead illumination had been lost. The usual hum of the engines missing, the absolute silence sent a shiver down the spines of the Federation crew.

Turning on their wrist lights, the sight greeting the team caused three members to gasp. One Kazon appeared to have been liquefied, before solidifying into the wall, his face and shoulders turned into a statue. As the beams slowly swept the room, other bodies, or parts that could be identified as living Kazon at one time, stuck out of the bulkheads. Sections from overhead littered the floor, leaving gapping holes in the roof. Piles of debris lay everywhere.

"What could do something like this?" B'Elanna approached the first body with an open tricorder. Scanning the area, she pointed to the middle of the bridge, "I'm showing high levels of nucleonic radiation. It seems to be isolated in that area." Lt. Torres pointed to a console with a large hole in one side.

"It is likely that the ship's automatic containment systems were activated when the radiation entered the bridge," Tuvok summarised. As this was the first Kazon vessel anyone from _Voyager_ had explored, they observed cautiously. So far, the technology conformed to their expectations, about two hundred years behind the Federation, yet it was unfamiliar in its design. As to the construction and material, Tuvok's tricorder suggested it was incompatible with Alpha quadrant equipment. "We should be safe as long as we stay on this side of the force field."

"Someone's alive over here," Mike Ayala called. He'd left the main group to explore and came across the man half laying on the communications panel when his tricorder indicated a possible life sign. "I'm not reading any others on board."

Tuvok called for a beam out. Once the individual had been removed to sick bay, the team once again turned their attention to the investigation. Torres uncovered a component that appeared to be out of place. A quick scan and she found the trace of a neosorium composite.

"To the best of my knowledge, only the Federation uses neosorium technology in the Alpha quadrant. So how did it get into the hands of the Kazon?" B'Elanna demanded. No one had an answer, at least one they wanted to voice. "More importantly, what component is this and what did the Kazon intend to do with it?"

"I suggest we initiate a full and complete balance of _Voyager's_ inventory, Lieutenant," Tuvok stated. "After removing the item from that console, I wish to transport it back to _Voyager_ for analysis. Perhaps Seska did not leave empty handed."

"I don't think I can remove it with this level of radiation," B'Elanna stated. "A transporter beam would disperse the moment it hit the irradiated section of the bridge. Until I can find a way to move the contamination away from the console, I won't be able to get near enough to dismantle the unit."

"If we cannot move the unit," Tuvok spoke slowly, his logic working to solve this issue, "perhaps we can move the radiation. There is no trace in this area. Therefore, I assume the forcefield did not engage in time to save the Kazon crew from the worst of the fall out. Perhaps, if the forcefield can be rotated to the back of the bridge, it would allow us to proceed with our mission."

"How do we work the controls for the shield, or even find them?" Ayala asked, going over to the still lit consoles and examining them.

"Life support is functioning, barely," Matthews offered, pointing out the fact they were able to breath, although the temperature was dropping steadily. "This panel is working better than any of the others. I think it's controlling environmental."

"If it weren't," Torres stated acidly, "we'd all be dead. I'd say that forcefield is the only thing keeping us alive."

"So how do we move it?" Matthews asked. "I'm not sure the universal translator can interpret this language. It's like nothing I've ever seen before."

Ayala came up to the woman and glanced over her shoulder at the screen. Waving his tricorder at the symbols it took several minutes to analyse the data. "No help there," Mike sounded disappointed. "We might have to bring a containment unit from Voyager, or radiation suits."

"No, if the transporter won't work," B'Elanna's had already gone through the engineering options in her mind. She'd right royally screwed up the Sikarin trajectory project, so she wasn't about to let her engines, or the Captain, down again. "A containment unit doesn't have a chance. Let me look at those schematics. I've only ever seen similar designs for all forcefields in the Alpha quadrant. The concept seems to be universal."

"I agree, Lieutenant," Tuvok followed the engineer to the station. Together they discussed the most valid choice. "I believe you should transport back to _Voyager_ while I initiate this procedure. There will be little advantage in the entire away team being injured if my logic is in error."

"No," Mike Ayala decided in a clear tone, "Commander. I'll do it. Just tell me which buttons I have to press. I'm expendable, you and Lt. Torres aren't. Besides," the look the large man gave the rest of the team spoke volumes.

"Once the radiation is removed from the area surrounding the console," Tuvok ordered, "I want you to contact Lt. Torres. She will transport back with a team to inspect the unit, assess the cause of the explosion and remove any Federation technology."

"Understood, Commander," Ensign Ayala nodded his understanding.

"Tuvok to _Voyager_ ," the Lt. Commander contacted the ship, "three to beam back."

As they appeared on the transporter pad, the Captain and Commander's Chakotay and Paris were waiting for a report. Tuvok dismissed his team before accompanying the other senior officers to the ready room. They all understood the discussion that would occur required complete privacy.

"According to the EMH," Kathryn reported of the Kazon in Sick bay after hearing about the bodies fused into metallic bulkheads, "virtually every cell in his body has mutated or fused with inorganic matter. Even his blood cells have bonded with metallic nuclei."

"Captain," Tuvok's very lack of expression caused the three officers in the room to shudder, "there was an apparent Federation signature to the explosion. Lt. Torres believes the Kazon may have been trying to install some new technology that detonated. A console on the bridge was the source of the explosion." It didn't take long to explain the reason why Mike Ayala remained, and how Lt. Torres intended to act once the radiation was eliminated.

"Dam Seska," the Captain raged. They all knew it was the only way the Kazon could have the Alpha quadrant technology. "How much damage is that woman going to do, how many lives will she take before she'd satisfied?"

"She's Cardassian," Chakotay reminded in a tone of both irritation and repugnance. "They don't stop. They are nothing more than arrogant, cruel, cold-blooded killers."

"What are you trying to say, Mr. Chakotay?" Demanded the Captain, not impressed with the expression of complete prejudice and intolerance on the former Maquis' face. While she understood his beliefs, that kind of fanaticism did not belong on her ship.

"Seska, if true to Cardassian form," the First Officer spat, "will attempt to control the sect through any means possible. Forgive me, Captain, but I don't think you really understand."

"I spoke with Kes after her incarceration, then Neelix at length when they first came on board _Voyager_ ," Kathryn offered in a soft, but deadly tone. She, perhaps more than any person, understood the depravity Cardassian's were capable of. Tom moved closer but dared not place a comforting hand in the middle of Kate's back. The fact the Captain moved the topic to their current enemy told her husband how deeply she'd been offended by Chakotay. "It seems the Kazon, no matter which sect, are a Paratracheal society. I'm afraid Seska won't find an easy way to the top."

"If she can't take the leadership by force," Chakotay suddenly understood the woman he'd once called lover and her motives better, while missing the Captain's response completely, "then she'll crawl into his bed. The woman is an expert manipulator. It seems there was only one person she didn't fool from the very beginning."

Tom chose to look away from Chakotay's glare. With a shake of his head, Commander Paris warned the Captain to let this blatant infraction of protocol pass without comment. In the same situation, Tom would feel just a provoked as his wife. However, both knew now was neither the time nor place to confront this issue.

"How long until Lt. Torres has that component on board," Kathryn asked, attempting to keep a sharp edge from her tone while changing the subject.

"All going well," Tuvok stated, "the away team should have returned to the Kazon vessel. I have requested the Lieutenant contact you the moment she has a preliminary report, Captain."

"You know me too well, Tuvok," the Captain responded with a half-smile that didn't reach her gaze. "If that is all gentlemen," awaiting any response, when Kathryn found none she dismissed her Commanders.

"Captain to Torres," Kathryn found she couldn't settle after the confrontation with Chakotay. She needed to know exactly what had gone missing from her ship.

"Yes, Captain," came the Engineer's cool tone. Their burgeoning friendship had taken a hit after the Sikari incident and it displeased both women, although neither would ever acknowledge it.

"I don't want to rush you, Lieutenant," Kathryn started, only to be interrupted.

"We're finished, Captain. Decontamination went exactly as planned. The console has been transported to Engineering, and we're on our way back now," B'Elanna stated tersely.

Rushing out of her ready room, Kathryn Paris gave the bridge a single glance. Each of her senior male crew were at their stations. Refusing to respond to anyone, she stepped into the turbolift and called for engineering. She knew it wouldn't be long before other Kazon-Nistrim ships converged on their position. By that time, she needed to know the exact damage Seska had caused, more especially to her own emotions.

"Of all the things to die for," B'Elanna almost had tears in her eyes as she shook her head. Looking up to the Captain, she could see the older woman didn't understand. "It's a food replicator, or at least it was trying to be. The mistakes are elementary. They didn't use a thick enough interior shield casing. Once the nucleonic radiation leaked out, a cascade reaction was inevitable."

"We may take replicators for granted, but imagine what it would mean to a culture that doesn't have this ability to generate food," Kathryn shook her head.

"You mean like _Voyager_ ," Lt. Carey commented ironically in an attempt to dispel the heavy atmosphere, "the Kazon have to run a mess. It that's the case, then why is that planet in their space filled with Leola root?"

Giving the man a death glare, yet appreciative of the endeavourer, Kathryn directed her question to the Chief. "Can you tell if any part of the console came from our ship?"

"There's no doubt about it, Captain," B'Elanna's features took on a serious mean. Pointing to the pattern buffer relays, everyone in the small party could clearly see the bio-neural fibres. "I guess Seska gave them directions, but they just didn't know what to do with it. I'm not sure Seska knew, either. She might have served in the Engineering section on _Val Jean_ , but it wasn't her area of expertise."

"No," Hogan stated. He'd been listening in from a station a few meters away. "She didn't know enough about the engines to take over for you, Torres, while you were on the Ocampa world. Weapons are her specialty."

Captain Kathryn Paris suddenly went pale. "Weapons?"

"Not exactly," Lt. Torres crossed her arms over her chest. "Even those I had to manually check to ensure they were fully functional. Everything Seska did had an odd way of breaking down when you most needed it. I think we've all realised Seska's job on _Val Jean_ had nothing to do with the Maquis cause."

"I want a complete report on everything we've found so I can share it with our Kazon friends," the Captain requested. "And anything you believe is relevant from your previous association. If the Kazon are determined to keep her, then I want them fully informed of her treachery."

"Captain, we're being hailed by the approaching Kazon ship," Ensign Kim informed the bridge several hours later. He'd picked up the vessel on long range scanners three hours previously. Now well into the Beta shift, the senior staff remained on the bridge, waiting for the confrontation. Their shifts would end with the situation concluded.

"Open a channel," the Captain ordered, standing with hands on her hips. Just as she had on the trials of her ship, she commanded the bridge from the middle level. Greeting Culluh, First Maje of the Kazon-Nistrim, it didn't take long to establish Seska's presence on his ship. She stood in full view, at his side, dressed to suit her new environment.

"You will prepare for my arrival," the Maje demanded. "Then you will explain why you have invaded Nistrim space and what you have done to my ship."

"I don't believe you have been invited aboard," Kathryn's eyes flashed. Before she could refute the remainder of his demands, _Voyager's_ Captain found herself cut off.

"Where is your husband," the Maje commanded. At his side, Seska whispered into his ear, pointing out Tom seated at the helm. Glaring at Commander Paris, he stated in a condescending tone, "make your woman obey."

"I beg your pardon," the Captain's tone became deadly.

"I don't think my life is worth it," Tom managed to mutter loud enough for everyone on the bridge of both ships to hear. He could feel Kate bristle behind him, both at the man on the screen and his inappropriate quip. Deciding discretion to be the better part of valour, Commander Paris suddenly found his attention completely absorbed by his console.

"Captain to Sick bay," Kathryn called to the computer, emphasising her rank. When the EMH answered, Ensign Kim placed the visual at the bottom of the main screen, placing the conversation into a three-way communication. After introducing the Maje again, she requested an update on their Kazon patient.

"We've been able to stabilise him," the Doctor reported.

It seemed Culluh was not impressed with Voyager's crew donating blood to achieve the minor miracle. Nor would he believe the changes to be affected by the explosion of the Federation technology, which he continued to vehemently deny existed on his ship. Understanding there would be no further opportunity to steal technology, even with Seska's help, the Maje demanded the return of his crewman.

"Your unique technologies make you brave, Captain," Culluh sneered after the transfer had been made, "but you have only one ship. We are the Nistrim, the strongest of the Kazon and our territory will take you months to cross. I will remember your lack of hospitality the next time we meet, and I will be accompanied by several ships."

"You know, I'm really easy to get along with most of the time," her tone deadly, Kathryn Paris made her body appear relaxed. Returning to her Captain's chair, she sat and crossed her legs before continuing. "But I don't like bullies, and I don't like threats, and I don't like you, Culluh. I promise you, I will respond with all the unique technologies at my command should our paths cross again, and even Seska's advice won't help."

Making a signal, she instructed the operations officer to cut the signal. "Mr. Paris, get us out of here, warp seven."

"Yes, Ma'am," Tom responded.

He didn't dare look around. He could feel Kate's piercing gaze aimed at the screen and the faded image of Culluh. Beside her, Chakotay's neck was ridged with mortification. Seska had played them all. However, the entire crew knew they'd made perhaps the most dangerous enemy today, not in the Kazon sects, but the Cardassian who would be the power behind their throne.

* * *

 **AN:** Next comes Cathexis. I guess I can go about this episode in one of two ways. As a medical professional who works in ICU, it is impossible for someone's conscious to 'float' about and inconceivable to return it to a brain-dead person. Given that this is science fiction, I'll go with the first, but not sure if, even in the 24th century, I can buy the second. So, I come to my choice, get rid of a character I personally see as weak/annoying, who serves no purpose (except as eye candy for the captain in the initial story line, IMHO), or keep him. Let me know what you think?

O


	24. Cathexis

**Part Twenty-Four: Cathexis.**

 **AN:** I've read the entire story over two days. It's certainly an epic and I'm impressed so many are continuing to follow, especially as my rate of writing has slow down. I thank you for your continuing support and hope to do a lot more writing in the next week.

After the mixed emotions resulting from my last author's note, I decided to take a very different tact with Cathexis. I hope you enjoy the yet another, and may I hope, completely unique, aspect of the Kate/Tom dynamic, as well as a sneak peek at the Chakotay/Tuvok rapport required for this episode. Well, in my universe at least! I will warn you, I've broken this episode into two parts due to length.

* * *

"Why don't you tell me what you really think?" Kathryn turned in her seat of the type six shuttle to face her husband after catching his last sentence about Chakotay. She'd hoped the exploration of the dark nebular would be routine, giving them several hours alone traversing to and from the phenomena and allowing her to catch up on some neglected work.

"About what?" Tom smirked, flicking his attention to the woman seated beside him. So far Captain Paris listened to her pilot's constant stream of inconsequential chatter while studying routine reports on the stack of PADD's she'd brought alone for the ride. This last comment obviously caught her attention on a personal level. "Was there something particular you wanted to talk about?"

"We could discuss your performance appraisal," Kate offered in a mischievous tone. _In for a penny, in for a pound_ , Kathryn mentally used one of Tom's old sayings. _An hour of playing hooky might not be such a bad idea. It's been a couple of weeks since we've managed to sit down and talk without some kind of interruption._

"I've always thought my performance was to your liking," Tom fired back in a brazen tone. It caused his wife to chuckle.

"You've never been modest," Kate returned easily.

"When have I ever been any different?" Tom returned with a boyish grin and sideways glace. It drew an eye roll from Kate, which caused Mr. Paris to chuckle.

Sighing, Captain Paris leisurely stretched her arms over her head. "So, is there an ulterior motive for allowing both of us to come on this away mission, Commander? I've become used to you pulling Intelligence rank, keeping your Captain confined to _Voyager_."

Tom snorted. "Like I could order you to do anything you didn't want too. Now that you mention it, I could find some activity that would amuse both of us for an hour or so!"

"Really," Kathryn shook her head. "I recall you saying something similar that time we took a shuttle out to see _Voyager_ in the early construction phase."

"And I thought you had a very pleasurable flight," Tom teased, remembering the events that occurred after placing the small craft on autopilot and disabling the gravity. "We could repeat that performance, and I'll even let you appraise every part of me."

"I might remind you, this is the first time I've been off my ship since that Sikari fiasco," Kathryn gave the man a shrewd look. "The first time my Intelligence Officer has deemed it safe enough. I would have thought you'd have come up with a new activity to celebrate."

Without a word, Tom Paris engaged the auto pilot and proximity warning system. Rising from his seat, he held out a hand to his wife. Kate took it easily and followed him to the rear of the small shuttle. They wouldn't have a lot of room, but he'd make do. Pushing his wife against the bulkhead, he knelt at her feet with every intention of paying her as much attention as she could take.

An hour later, Captain Kathryn Paris settled back into her seat, content but drained. Tom had replicated them new uniforms after rumpling their old ones beyond recognition. The smell of coffee permeated the cabin.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," Kathryn stated with a yawn as a mug was placed into her hands. A plate of food followed, resting on the console between them before Tom slipped into the pilot's chair.

"Just be thankful it's not Chakotay flying this shuttle," Tom mocked, checking their position. Approaching the nebular, the electromagnetic radiation was increasing. Compensating by increasing the shield harmonics, it meant they would soon be invisible to _Voyager's_ sensor array and the pilot would have to take back manual control.

"As if the Intelligence officer would allow the Captain and Frist Officer on the same away mission," the Captain snorted.

"I wouldn't let Chakotay anywhere near a shuttle. He's already earnt a reputation for damaging the vehicles, including the this one," Tom parried. Currently, the Asimov had deep groves down either side thanks to a run in with the Kazon-Ogla the first time he'd flown the craft. "I didn't think we had enough to spare, so the First Officer was out for this little foray. As to Tuvok," shaking his head, Tom turned to face his wife, "can you imagine the two of us cooped up in this space for the better part of a day?"

"And I thought you and Tuvok were getting along," Kathryn responded in a very Vulcan tone with accompanying eyebrow rise.

"We are," Tom responded easily, "but I don't think our activities of the last hour would have been appropriate with the Tactical Officer."

"You could have taken Mr. Kim or Lt. Torres," the Captain teased, watching her husband's reaction. It seemed Tom really had wanted to spend some quality time with her, so had taken the opportunity when it presented itself.

"Don't go there, Kate," Tom smirked mockingly. "The latest rumours have you leaving me for B'Elanna. The two of you spend more time together in Sandrine's than anyone else."

Snorting with laughter, the Captain almost fell off her chair. "You're making that up!" Yet, if anyone knew the rumour mill, it was Tom Paris.

"Hey," Tom parried, "it's not my fault they forget I'm sitting with the pair of you, holding your hand under the table like a teenager. I think the rest of the crew are finally seeing what I did when I first met the Maquis Engineer. The two of you are a lot alike. Scary, determined women who are dedicated to your jobs, and you both like me!"

"Is that why you developed such a close friendship with B'Elanna?" Kathryn asked easily, yet there was an undertone of curiosity.

"I missed you," Tom became completely serious, "more than I ever had before. It was the first time we'd been incommunicado for more than a few weeks. This assignment was the longest I've ever taken, or that I couldn't get away from to come visit you. Torres, if you can get her trust and she lets you in, is an easy person to talk too. She's smart, funny, dedicated, loyal and she understands my quirky personality. Sound like anyone you might know?"

"B'Elanna told me about your midnight forays to Engineering while undercover on _Val Jean_ ," Kathryn said, while examining her husband's expression. Tom's emotions were both a revelation and surprise.

A slow smile crept over Tom's face. "Jealous?"

Snorting, Kathryn Paris slouched back in her chair. The unperturbed body language disabused her husband of that notion. "B'Elanna did say she would have made a play for you, if you hadn't been taken."

Tom Paris became momentarily speechless. "After my treatment on Banea, how can you even joke about another woman!" His tone was incredulous while hurt shone through his azure eyes.

Kathryn Paris turned her gaze to the man before her, and scrutinised him. Mr. Thomas Paris had never been insecure in their relationship. It seemed the ordeal imposed on Tom had affected his psyche more than the Captain or EMH realised. "Did you want me to be jealous?" she asked carefully.

"Maybe," he replied, a melancholy note in his tone, "just a little. I've always been the one who chased, Kate. I've always been the one waiting, taking up any mission to stay close to you. Sometimes…."

"It feels like I don't care enough," Kathryn's expression softened. Falling onto her knees and forcing Tom's legs apart by inserting herself between them, she reached up. Mrs. Pairs placed a gentle hand on her husband's cheek. Allowing her thumb to stroke the skin just under his eye, Tom's eyes widened at the vulnerable expression, exposing her heart. "I do, Tom, I love you. I think I always have. I remember telling your father how I'd always wanted a little brother to follow me around and consider me special. I knew how much Kathy, Steph and even Lizzy ignored you."

"You lived up to all my expectations," Tom managed to whisper in voice filled with wonderment. They'd never really talked about the years Kate had lived with his family. It was one of the best memories of his childhood.

"That wasn't hard," Kathryn's gaze softened, "you were an easy kid to like and be around."

"My dad didn't think so," Tom recalled. Suddenly all his insecurities came to the surface. He couldn't understand why.

"You never heard your father speak about you to his colleagues. Owen believe you were destined for great things. I should know, I served with him for several years while you were at Prep-School. It was the teenager _**I**_ didn't like much," Kate tried humour to make the moment lighter.

"I don't know," Tom responded, pulling the woman from the floor and into his lap. Suddenly he needed his wife within the warmth of his embrace. Making love hadn't stopped the vulnerability that had been assaulting him over the last few weeks. Commander Paris knew he'd soon have to leave _Voyager_ , his wife and friends, to take care of the Seska issue. Locking his uncertainties away, Mr. Paris forced his tone to become light. "After I turned seventeen, I seemed to grow on you."

"Is that what you want to call it," Kathryn responded with a slight smile, unconvinced the mood of a few moments earlier had completely dissipated. More familiar with Tom alternative personality after Voyager's stop at Sikari, she saw a hint of the Intelligence Commander in the back of his blue orbs. "There were a few years in between when we didn't see much of each other."

"Starfleet academy and first commissions will do that to you," Tom stated with a frown. "When I told the Admiral I was going to marry you in my final year, he hit the roof. Did you know, it took your Mom coming to San Francisco and telling him I knew about your incarceration with the Cardassian's not to throw me out of the house."

"Mom said Owen threatened to disinherit you," Kate recalled the incident with alacrity. Gretchen Janeway had comm'ed her daughter and told her to go to her fiancée the very same night. It had been the first time they visited Sandrine's.

Captain Paris didn't quite know how they'd gotten onto such a dismal topic. It seemed to be a warning, that Tom's mind and insistence they take this mission together spelt trouble. "I'm glad that part of our history, the uncertainty, is in the past. Tom, I love you, even if I don't say it enough. Our situation on _Voyager_ , it's taken some getting used to. I like having you beside me every night and working with you during the day. I don't know why I wanted it any other way or how I survived on _Billings_ for all those years."

Pulling his wife deeply into his embrace, Tom felt they'd said enough for the moment. If he pushed further, she'd know something important was on his mind and Commander Paris couldn't allow that. "I love you, Kate. I always have and always will."

Releasing her, Tom sighed as Kate returned to her own seat. Placing his hands back on the controls, he ensured they'd remained on course while the ship continued into the nebula on autopilot. The space surrounding the small craft slowly became darker the further into the phenomenon they travelled. Where there had been twinkling lights, the background of stars evaporated. Eventually Kate's concern at her husband's unusual display of emotion was superseded by the view outside the shuttle.

"Remind me again why we're out here?" The Captain asked, a shiver running the length of her spine. Although she'd never been inside a dark nebula, something about this one seemed wrong.

"I believe," Tom responded uneasily, glancing at Kate which communicated his disquiet, "it has something to do with your scientific curiosity."

Without warning, the shuttle shook violently. Tom's attention turned completely to the interface before him. Neither the sensors nor collision avoidance systems detected anything in their path or close to it. The view outside remained stagnant, still and empty. Yet, the shields were losing integrity and power seeped from the impulse nacelles.

"Our energy is being drained," Kathryn reported, watching the indicators on her board. "Shields at seventy nine percent and dropping."

"I'm reversing course," Tom stated, his hands dancing over his console. "Coming about to 243 mark 61. EM bursts are increasing."

"Acknowledged," Kathryn sat forward to reach the communications board. "Seven minutes until we reach _Voyager's_ long-distance sensor range. Hold her steady, Tom. I'm preparing a distress signal on all subspace frequencies. Let's hope they hear us."

The fact the pilot didn't answer informed the Captain they were in trouble. Still being buffeted by an unknown source, Asimov's inertial dampeners failed and the shuddering increased. Turning her chair to environmental control, which was failing secondary to the power drain, a violent impact knocked Kathryn from her seat. As her head hit the side of Tom's seat, she noticed a white light materialise in the rear of the shuttle. Darkness fell before the Captain could warn her pilot of the danger.

 _Voyager_ had watched the Shuttle Asimov depart three hours previously. They were now on their way to the Ilidaria, a small golden G type star with two planets in the habitual zone and three others colonised post terraforming. Neelix assured the Captain the natives were not only friendly, but warp capable and willing to trade. Over the months, slowly the relationship between Kathryn Paris and Chakotay developed into a lukewarm friendship as she continued to court the man. This was the first time the Captain had given the former Maquis command of her ship. They both knew it to be a test.

"Bridge to Chakotay," Harry comm'ed the acting Captain. He kept the uncertainty from reaching his tone.

"Go ahead," Chakotay answered, looking up from the pile of PADD's on his desk. The administrative duties never seemed to end, even with the help of Yeoman Du, whom the First Officer shared with the Captain.

"I'm picking up a distress signal from the Shuttle Asimov, Sir," the Ensign reported. "They're at the edge of sensor range and just exited the nebula. It will be three minutes before we're close enought for a life sign sweep or audio communications."

"Helm," Chakotay ordered, leaving his office for the bridge, "set a course for the nebular, warp seven. Mr. Kim, let me know if there are any changes, I'm on my way. Chakotay out."

Captain and Commander Paris's mission was expected to take twenty-two hours, while _Voyager_ travelled in the opposite direction. This was to be the first time Chakotay had complete control. The former Maquis leader savoured the opportunity to once again be the Captain of his vessel. Any thoughts of a mutiny had long since been replaced with getting everyone home in the quickest possible timeframe. They disappointments affected the Maquis as much at the Fleeters, even if there were still a few diehards amongst his previous crew who wanted to trade Federation technology for safe passage through this sector of space. Both Chakotay and Ayala continued to work with individuals, making them realise the Kazon were akin to the Cardassian's and that was the reason Seska proposed the idea.

Sighing as he reached the turbolift, Chakotay ordered, "deck one." Reaching the bridge, he surveyed the area, wondering how much longer he'd be responsible for _Voyager_. With Captain and Commander Paris sending out a distress signal, his duty was clear. For a very brief moment, the acting Captain considered ordering the ship to change course and abandoning the couple to their fate. It passed as quickly as it came. Over the last seven months, he come to respect Kathryn Paris and her unusual style of command.

 _She would have done well in the Maquis_ , the thought suddenly entered Chakotay's mind and made him smirk. _Together with her husband, they would have made a hell of a team. As a couple, they barely get any time alone on Voyager. This away mission was supposed to give them the opportunity under the guise of duty._

Pulling his mind back to the present, the Chakotay demanded his crew to report. Tuvok ensured the shield were engaged and he weapons at the ready. Harry Kim had the transporter on standby for the moment they came close enough to extract their people. As the minutes counted down until Asimov was in long distance sensor range, the atmosphere became thick with anticipation. Finally, the bridge crew heard Ensign Kim announce the shuttle contained two life signs, both weak. It took another ninety seconds to be in transporter range.

"Chief," Chakotay barked over the comm, "transport Captain and Commander Paris directly to sick bay. Tuvok, tractor that shuttle into bay two. I want B'Elanna and her crew to go over every system and find out what happened out there. They were only gone three hours. Hardly long enough to enter the nebula."

Tuvok and Chakotay rushed into sick bay, leaving Harry Kim in charge on the bridge the moment Asimov was secure. In the surgical area, Commander Paris lay with the arch over his abdomen. His face covered in a burn the Doctor had not bothered to heal. It was the least of Tom's issues by the way the EMH and Kes were fussing with devices. Another biobed contained the Captain, who, to all intent and purpose, appeared to be unharmed but unconscious. The panel above her biobed reading normal for all vital statics.

"Mr. Paris as taken a blast to the head by some kind of energy discharge," The EMH reported to the two most senior officers currently aboard _Voyager_. His attention fixed on his patient, the doctor didn't look up to see the expression of concern pass between the Tactical and First Officers. Both approached the surgical bay, only to be pushed out of the way. "The Captain has a serious concussion. It appears she was standing and head hit when they were attacked. It could have been much worse, if not for Mr. Paris's flying ability. As for the Commander, I am at a loss to explain the decrease in his brain activity. If I didn't know better, I would say the weapon used resembled the Vidiian organ extractor, only for bioneural energy."

"Will Mr. Paris recover?" Chakotay asked, choking on the idea. Another enemy like the Vidiian's would not be in _Voyagers_ best interests, especially with the Captain currently indisposed.

"That depends," the EMH reported, holding out his hand to Kes. She placed a small round device in his hand, which the doctor attached just below Tom's left ear. "It would be a great help if I could examine the weapon. In the meantime, I'll keep Mr. Paris under constant observation. At this rate, he'll be brain dead within twenty hours if I can't find what causing the loss of bioneural energy."

"Keep me informed, Doctor," Chakotay ordered, sending a look towards the prostrate woman. "I want to know the moment the Captain's awake and if there are any changes in Mr. Paris's condition. Either Mr. Tuvok or myself want to be present when they wake and know when we can question them."

"Bridge to Chakotay," Harry's tone sounded uneasy.

"Go ahead," the acting Captain responded. One look at Tuvok and they knew their problems were just starting. Something occurred to two of the most senior officers in that nebula. His Maquis instincts stirring, Chakotay's tactical mind wondered if there could be a more sinister reason for attacking the Asimov. With both Paris's out of commission, or worse, dead, it would leave _Voyager_ in an interesting position and Chakotay in charge.

"There seems to be a problem with the Con," Harry reported. "Ensign Baytart assured me he has not changed course. However, the operations computer reports we have turned about and are heading away from the Nebula. This is the second time it's occurred since beaming Captain and Commander Paris to sickbay. I have Engineering looking into the sensor array and navigation computers."

"Commander Tuvok and I are on our way," Chakotay responded before signing off. Glancing at his companion, the acting Captain knew they had to form a tight working relationship and fast. Without Commander and Captain Paris, the responsibility for the safety of _Voyager_ and her crew lay heavily on their shoulders. Indicating they would talk outside sickbay, the men exited quickly. "I want to you take over the duties of First Officer, Tuvok, until the Captain is ready to return to duty. With Mr. Paris's injuries, I'm not sure his wife will want to leave his side."

Allowing his left eyebrow to rise, the Tactical Officer knew of the bond between his friends. Logically, he would do all he could to aid the Captain through a most trying time. "Let us hope," Tuvok commented, entering the turbolift, "by the time that Kathryn Paris recovers from her concussion, the Doctor has uncovered a way to keep Commander Paris alive."

* * *

 **AN:** Well I hoped you liked this alternative take on Cathexis. More to come soon.


	25. Cathexis II

**Part Twenty-Five: Cathexis II**

 **AN:** I'm sorry this story has taken a back seat to my muse. In my defence, I have brought you three smaller works, totalling over twenty thousand words in the meantime. Thank you for staying with me. I hope you enjoy the version of Cathexis.

* * *

"Torres," Chakotay barked, entering the shuttle bay. The stress was getting to him and his usually unruffled exterior showed signs of strain. Ensign Kim and the Chief Engineer glanced at each other as they climbed from Asimov's interior. The pair had been working on the shuttle's data banks for the last four hours. "Tell me you have something!" the harried First Officer requested in a brusque tone.

"The logs on Asimov were deliberately wiped," B'Elanna announced, one hand on her hip for emphasis. "Paris's codes were used, Commander not Captain. I've managed a partial restoration, but you'll need to give my team a few more hours to reconstruct them. Tom did a very good job!"

"Commander Paris might not have a few more hours," Chakotay stated vehemently, adding a glare that rivalled the Captains for good measure. "The doc wants to know about the weapon used so he can find a treatment."

"The energy discharge," B'Elanna ignored the first part of her friends comment. They all knew what was a stake, only the Klingon channelled her energies into her job to the exclusion of all else. "Left a signature on the shuttles console. It's like nothing we've ever seen. I'm not sure it's even physical in nature."

"What do you mean?" Chakotay demanded, his eyes flicking to Harry.

"The energy discharge doesn't match Federation, Klingon, Cardassian or anything we've experienced in the Delta quadrant," Lt Torres reported with a frustrated growl. "The closest fit, would be the Narcine emanations from the Caretaker."

"The Caretaker had a small physical element to his structure," Harry explained to the obviously shocked and confused officer. "That's why he transported ships into this quadrant and examined the crew for a biological match. This energy signature has a subtle variance. Our best guess, it's completely non-corporal in nature. B'Elanna and I think Commander Paris was hit by the being, not a weapon as we know it."

"An energy being?" Chakotay questioned. "Like the one we encountered in your Beowulf program?"

"Yes," Harry answered with a frown, "and no. That was photonic, unable to convert matter to energy or the other way around. It removed us from the holodeck using something similar to the transporter and held us in a containment unit for biological entities. This being, if there is one, is able to use raw power to impact physical matter."

"So can the doctor, whose made of photons," Chakotay said, trying to assimilate the science. _That's what makes Kathryn such a good Captain_ , he sighed internally, _she understands this technical jargon, she's on the same page as Torres and Kim._ "But he doesn't go around hitting people and wiping their mind. He uses that ability to pick up tools that heal people."

"It's not the same," B'Elanna tried to keep the annoyance from her tone. "Even the replicators turn energy into matter, but there has to be base organic matter in the buffers to draw on. When you recycle your waste, it returns to the buffers."

Obviously trying to understand the concept, Chakotay remained silent.

"See these new indentations on the Asimov?" Harry pointed out the depressions before B'Elanna could say more. "The craters show signs of energy but also matter impacting the shuttle. One has been converted into the other without the use of any physical technology which is impossible with our current knowledge. The guidance avoidance system should have evaded them, if not, Tom's too good a pilot to let something get this close, especially with his wife on board."

"Agreed," Chakotay responded, finding amusement in the subtle putdown of himself and Harry's defence of his friend. The closeness between Ensign Kim, Lt. Torres and the Paris's had been noticed, especially as they often met in Sandrine's. "So, the attack on Commander Paris, might have been this energy being and not a weapon?"

"It's plausible," B'Elanna shrugged her shoulders, board with the discussion and wanting to get back to her work. "Once we have those logs, we'll be able to tell you more."

"Get back to me," Chakotay ordered with a supressed smile, "the minute you have something."

Exiting the shuttle bay, the acting Captain needed time to think. Making his way back to the bridge, he wondered if he should call into Sickbay and look in on the injured. The EMH hadn't contacted him since the Captain and Commander Paris had been beamed aboard six hours previously. Lieutenant's Torres and Carey hadn't been able to find a reason for Voyager's current inability to travel in the direction of the Dark Nebula. Every diagnostic came back normal, with the course corrections entered by Commander Paris. As the man remained in Sickbay in a critical condition, the Engineering department were at a loss to explain how it occurred. Finally, B'Elanna turned her attention to the shuttle in the hope of finding some answers. It seemed even that line of enquiry proved marginal at best.

 _How does Kathryn do it_ , Chakotay rubbed his forehead, a stress headache starting behind his eyes. _We're running out of time. Voyager is a target for any passing marauder. I have systems that are non-functional and no real explanation as to why. I could be without at least one member of the senior staff if the doctor can't find a way to stabilise Tom. I don't even want to think about how that's going to affect the Captain once she's awake. Then there is the issue of working with Tuvok. I'm sure he's a very good officer, but I'm not sure I would have chosen him as an XO. Then there will be the former Maquis…._

Stopping dead in the middle of the corridor, Chakotay's legs became weak. Leaning against the nearest bulkhead, he looked around for any crew. He couldn't afford to look fragile after only nine hours in the top job.

 _When did I become former Maquis?_ He demanded of himself. _When did I start thinking of myself as Starfleet? Twenty years as an Officer, it's certainly left an impact. Almost from the beginning, I obeyed Captain Paris without thinking. She has that tone in her voice, the one they try to have us cultivate at Command School. There's no doubt, the woman's a born leader. Yet, I'm still holding meetings every eight to twelve days with the other Maquis. We still have plans to take over this vessel once we reach the Alpha quadrant. So, what's happened? Why do I suddenly feel different?_

Taking in a steadying breath, Chakotay straightened. Pulling down his jacket, he put on his best command face. His mind reeling under the sudden and unexpected thoughts, he crushed them until he had the time to examine them more closely. He knew there would be consequence to his promotion, he just hadn't expected them to be this personal.

 _Ayala will back me, no matter what_. Of that, Chakotay was completely certain. Striding down the hall to the turbolift, his mind wouldn't settle as the ramification hit him. _There are others who will see my elevation to Captain, even in a temporary capacity, as a signal to change to basis of our command and social structure on this ship. I'm amazed they haven't approached me already. What a mess! What am I supposed to do? How do I stop a Maquis revolt without losing their confidence? Tuvok, I'll have to confide my fears in the Tactical officer. Not that he and Tom Paris haven't already made plans in that direction._

"Doctor to Commander Chakotay," the EMH's voice issued from his comm badge, breaking into the acting Captain's depressing thoughts. "I thought you'd like to know; Captain Paris is now able to answer questions."

"You were supposed to contact me," Chakotay berated the hologram on entering Sickbay and seeing Kathryn's eyes open, "the moment the Captain was conscious?"

"Until a few moments ago," the EMH reprimanded, "my patient was unable to remember her name, or even recognise her husband."

Nodding, Chakotay called for Tuvok to attend the session. He wanted a second opinion from someone who knew Kathryn Paris intimately. Together they were updated on the progress of both patients before speaking with the Captain. Everything going well, Kathryn Paris would be able to return to duty in a few hours. The Commander's conditioned had stabilised, but his brain function was minimal at best.

"At this point in time," the doctor sighed, looking though his glass at the surgical bay, "the higher cerebral functions are non-existent. Mr. Paris's autonomic behaviours, breathing and the beating of his heart, originate from his brain stem. If he loses those abilities, I'll be forced to change his diagnosis from vegetative state and declare him brain dead."

Moving into the main area, Chakotay and Tuvok stood at the end of the biobed holding the Captain. Kathryn, watching the men behind the glass partition, waited for the inquisition to commence. She sat up straight and cursed the pyjama like outfit. It made her feel less than professional. Raising a hand to her forehead, the cut from colliding with the side of her husband's seat might be healed, but the pain continued to vaguely plague her temples. Still, she'd been through worse, and she wasn't about to let this stop her taking back command of her ship.

"I can't tell you anything," the Captain stated, her voice low and rough. She hadn't waited for the question, knowing what she'd ask in the same position as Chakotay. "Tom put the shuttle on autopilot until we reached the threshold of the nebula. We'd entered the exosphere and wanted to go further into the anomaly before taking the first set of readings. The next thing we knew, Asimov was being buffeted by some invisible force. The forward view screen was blank, not even a star twinkling. The sensors reported nothing. Something was draining our energy directly from the impulse nacelles. We'd lost shields and life support was failing. As I fell out of my chair, I noticed a phenomenon, something like our transporter, starting in the back of the shuttle. I'm afraid that's when I lost consciousness."

"Can you speculate on the phenomenon, Captain," Tuvok requested, his eyebrow reaching for the ceiling.

"If I had to guess," Kathryn stated while her eyes darted towards the man on the surgical bed, a worried expression covering her features, "two individuals, about one metre high and half that wide. I didn't manage to see their shape or colouring. The shaft of light, if a transporter, hadn't even started to coalesce when I blacked out."

"It would explain the energy discharge used on Commander Paris," Tuvok surmised. "I believe Mr. Paris would have defended the Captain, or at least attempted it, against intruders."

"Especially if already unconscious," the EMH gave his opinion freely.

"Surely the intruder alert would have sounded if someone beamed aboard Asimov," Kathryn stated, watching Chakotay's reaction. She knew there was something he wasn't telling her.

"Kim and Torres think the beings might have been made of energy," Chakotay announced, earning Tuvok's attention.

"Intriguing," the Tactical Officer commented.

"But what could these beings want?" Kathryn demanded, running with the idea. "The EM radiation explains why we didn't detect a presence, even after entering the nebula. If they transported onto the shuttle, they took nothing, injured Tom and left me unconscious. What has B'Elanna said about the logs?"

"It seems they have been wiped, but Lt. Torres is attempting to extract what data she can," Chakotay announced. "Initially I had the helm set a course for the Nebula. Twice we have been plagued with issues and I've had to order a full stop before more systems crash and _Voyager_ is without any propulsion. B'Elanna's team are trying to work through the problems. So far," sighing heavily, he announced, "nothing has shown up, even on a level one diagnostic. Our Engineer has checked several of the conduits manually. I'm at a loss for an explanation."

"What issues," Kathryn demanded. It drew the attention of both the EMH and Kes as the board above the Captain's bed alarmed. They rushed to her bedside, restraining the Captain before she tried to get up. The last time she'd attempted to sit, it had taken both of them and a sedative to stop her from trying to reach her husband.

"You," the doctor's tone was harder than anyone had ever heard, "are to remain laying down. I've not even given you permission to walk the short distance to your husband's bedside for a reason. That head is not as hard as Mr. Paris's and needs at least another six hours to heal. A brain injury is no small matter, Captain. Further damage at this stage could lead to permeant impairment."

"I want to see Tom," the woman almost whined, leading Chakotay, Tuvok and Kes to wince. It proved the EMH's diagnosis when a tear slipped past the Captains usually tight control.

"You can see Commander Paris more than adequately from your current location, Captain," the EMH stated acidly. "That is why I've place you in the biobed closest to the surgical bay."

The sudden changed in Kathryn Paris took everyone, except the doctor by surprise. Becoming angry, she stated caustically, "you know that's not what I meant. I want to be close to Tom."

"And you will," consoled the medical expert, "when I deem you fit enough. Right now, I'm going to give you a sedative to help you relax. When you wake up, I'll run another scan. Then, and only if I'm certain there's no lasting effects, will I allow you to get up."

Before he could retrieve the hypo, Kathryn gave the doctor a scathing glare. "No sedative, doctor. I promise to lay here, but only for another three hours."

Rolling his eyes, he dialled up a relaxant instead. Showing the Captain, she nodded her head. Submitting to the treatment reluctantly, Kathryn lay down as the spray took effect but not before she speared the doctor with yet another a famous Paris glare. Tuvok and Chakotay exchanged worried looks over the Captains bed, the alarms subsiding slowly. Standing, the EMH shook his head, indicating they should reconvene in his office.

"I'm afraid I will need to keep the Captain for at least another twenty-four hours after that outburst," he reported. "Although how is beyond me. I am concerned at the amount of damage to her neural tissue from a simple fall. I can't see any evidence of the weapon used on the Commander either being used or causing the changed in Captain personality. Of course, in another day, we will know the fate of Mr. Paris and the issues may change significantly."

"Understood," Chakotay answered unhappily. One glance at Tuvok and they knew plans needed to be made and the crew informed of his event.

"Doctor," Kes gained the men's attention with her soft tone, "I've noticed the Captains outbursts are becoming more emotional. I can feel her, as if her mind is getting stronger, louder, and more chaotic."

"Let's run another bioneural diagnostic and deep engram scan while she's resting. Perhaps that will give us some answers. I'll let you know," the EMH turned to the senior officers, "as soon as I have any results. However, I suggest you find something more tangible on that energy discharge. Its modulation or phase distribution," The Doctor demanded. "I can't guarantee Mr. Paris more than a day. I hardly need to tell you, the longer he remains comatose decreased his chances of making any sort of meaningful recovery. Without more information, I'm unable to do anything."

"You did not inform the Captain," Tuvok stated as the men exited Sickbay for the second time, "about details of those issues currently causing _Voyager's_ systems failures."

"What good would it have done, Tuvok, to inform the Captain that her dying husband is responsible for the command codes causing our present issues," Chakotay spat. "Besides, that woman is not the Captain we know. Kathryn Paris would never allow herself to act that way, even worried about her husband. She's a Starfleet Officer first and a wife second, her personnel record adequately demonstrates that fact. I just hope the Doctor can come up with an explanation for what occurred out there."

"Agreed," Tuvok answered, his mind working on any possibility to uncover the truth. "Perhaps, a mind meld would help? I may be able to establish the circumstance in the moments prior to the phenomenon the Captain described before Mr. Paris's mind fades completely."

"It's worth a try," Chakotay sighed, an ironic smirk covering his lips. "But I don't want you to put yourself in danger, Tuvok. You're the last senior officer on this ship and I can't afford to lose you. It might just start a munity. Which," pausing to allow the seriousness in his gaze to be communicated, "is something we need to discuss."

"I understand, Commander," the Vulcan nodded, unable to find a fault with Chakotay's logic. The circumstances made a Maquis revolt more than possible and the probability increasing. "May I suggest we carry on this conversation in the safety of the Security office. Then I will approach the Doctor with my suggestion for a mind meld with Commander Paris."

"At this point in time, I'm willing to consider anything," the doctor confided with a very human sigh, watching his patient from behind the glass in his office. Kathryn Paris's scans revealed nothing new. "May I suggest you achieve this mind meld before the Captain stirs. I'm not sure how she will take the interference with her husband."

"You know," Kes interrupted, "all of the Captain's thoughts are directed at Tom. Her emotions are only engaged when he's the subject of any conversation. It's as if," pausing to consider her next words carefully, "that's the only time the Captain's mind is her own. I can almost sense another presence in her thoughts, until it gets drowned out by some strong feelings."

"What do you feel from Commander Paris?" Tuvok questioned, intrigued by his student's increasing abilities.

"Nothing," Kes looked into her mentors' eyes. The Vulcan had been teaching her to control her mental powers and developing telepathy for months. "May I touch Tom while you complete the mind meld. I know it's important, something I need to do."

Nodding, Tuvok suggested, "let us procced."

Placing his fingers on Commander Paris's face, the Vulcan commenced the words that would link their minds. Within a few minutes, Tuvok retreated with a pained expression on his face. "I am sorry to inform you," he looked towards the doctor, "there is little of the man we know as Tom Paris remaining in this body. His Kata has been violently removed by a race calling themselves the Komar, made up of electromagnetic energy. They do not wish to cause death, but keep Voyager and her crew captive, feeding on our bio-neural energy."

"You're saying we're a food source," the EMH looked horrified.

"In essences," Tuvok stated, "yes. Commander Paris was their first attempt to feed on humans. I believe the Komar have become aware of their error and are now trying to lure us into the Nebula."

As the doctor and Tuvok discussed the ramifications of this discovery, Kes stole out of sick bay. Following her instinct, the Ocampan found herself on deck nine, in a part of the ship she didn't know existed. Coming on a locked door, her fingers keyed in the security code. Once inside, she gave the order to erect a level ten omega force field. Much to her surprise, the computer complied.

"Tom," she called, looking around the dimly lit room. It was more a feeling that Commander Paris was inhabiting this space than any ability to see him.

 _Kes,_ the gentle voice touched her mind. _I need your help_.

* * *

 **AN:** I hoped you liked the cliff hanger. I've almost finished the last part of this episode. Please let me know what you think of the changes I've made. In truth, I never envisaged Cathexis lasting one, let alone three chapters.


	26. Cathexis III

**Part Twenty-Six: Cathexis III.**

 **AN:** the final instalment, no matter how long, I promise. There is just so much more of this story to be told before I turn my attentions back to some of my other unfinished works. The aftermath with be in the next chapter.

 _Kes,_ Tom's voice gently touched her mind, as if a whisper. _I need your help_.

"How?" Kes asked passively, looking around the space that was Commander Thomas Paris's Intelligence Office. She couldn't see Tom anywhere, yet she felt him, or at least his aura. It was a strange sensation.

 _We can't go back to that nebula_ , Tom asserted, his tone harder and more determined than the Ocampan woman had ever heard. Both knew this to be the professional persona, not the irrepressible individual _Voyager_ and her crew usually witnessed.

"You're the one who's been causing all the problems," Kes found her intuition leading her to the desk in the middle of the large and mostly empty space. Sitting on the chair, she observed the panel before her. Although she shouldn't understand the symbols, she did. It took a moment to realise she was seeing through Tom's eyes, recalling his memories and actions. "Are you in my mind?" she asked, astonished.

 _No,_ Tom smiled, at least that was the way his contact felt. _And yes. I'm able to speak with you because of the Mind Meld. I don't know how, but it opened a channel between us. I feel tethered to you in a way I've not managed with anyone else._

"You were floating before?" Kes asked, closing her eyes and experiencing the feeling of hovering.

 _That's what it felt like_ , Tom agreed. _I could force my thoughts on people, like Ensign Baytart. Make him change course or enter my codes into the computer. I even considered making B'Elanna eject the warp core to stop Voyager from getting any closer to Komar space. It might come to that, Kes. Voyager can't go into that Nebula. We have to erect a warning system for any other vessels that stray to close._

"How do you want me to help?" Kes asked. Although she'd been present for the Mind Meld, the Ocampan woman was not aware of the information Tom's mind imparted to Tuvok. A shiver ran the length of Kes's spine as she understood the danger to _Voyager_ , her crew, but most importantly, her Captain. "I saw your memories, just now. I know what those beings want from us."

 _I need to find a way to get my mind back into my body_ , Tom stated impatiently. _I've read about Vulcan Kata's, how they can be taken at the moment of death and stored. However, only a priest can return them if the body has been saved, as in the case of Commander Spock. Other than that, there was an incident on DS9 with Dr. Bashir when an alien entity took over his body._

"Neither of those incidents seem to fit your situation," Kes responded with a frown, her memories melding with Tom's to understand the specifics of each case.

 _I don't know how we are going to achieve reuniting my body and mind._

"Could we reverse the process?" Kes questioned.

 _What do you mean_? Tom asked.

Kes looked confused, before saying slowly, "As I understand it, your Kata, or soul, or consciousness, whatever you want to call it, was ejected from your body and is floating. I've managed to locate it because somehow Tuvok inadvertently join us telepathically. What if I act as a channel. Just as the Komar expelled your conscious from your physical body with a burst of energy, maybe I can act as a conduit to guide your soul into your mind."

 _Before that, I need you to help me remove the presence that has taken over Kate. Once the doc releases her from sick bay, she'll do everything in her power to take Voyager into that nebula_ , Tom stated _. I can't let her, Kes. As the Captain, Kate holds the ultimate power on this ship. Unless there are very specific circumstances, even an Intelligence officer can't overrule a Captain, especially if the Doc declares Kate fit for duty._

"Tom," the word stated she understood the stream of images he sent, what it would mean for the crew, to be kept alive as sustenance for the Komar. While Tom Paris knew it was not his wife he would combating, the being that inhabited her body wouldn't stop until its mission was complete. As much as the thought pained him, the Commander knew his duty, and that it had to come first. "Can you make yourself visible?"

 _I don't think so,_ he sounded intrigued. _But I haven't really tried. Until now, I just wanted people to do as I commanded. I kind of just entered their thoughts for a few seconds, enough to accomplish my aim and keep Voyager and the crew safe. I tried to access the computers…_

"You're sharing my mind at the moment, Tom," Kes tried a different tact. "Could I act as a vessel for your thoughts, more permanently? Is it possible the channel between us is strong enough to sustain the contact?"

 _You mean_ , understanding finally dawned, _like a Vulcan acting as a container for another's Kata, until it can be return. We can try._

"If it works," Kes theorised, something inside her confident she was capable of this feat, "I know I'll be able to transfer you back into your own body."

Taking in a deep breath, Kes closed her eyes and opened her mind. A tingling sensation started at her crown and descended lower. She could feel Tom's essence invading her neural pathways. Instinctively she made room, walling off a section of her conscious for him to inhabit. They would be able to interact, but remain two individuals sharing a single biological entity.

 _Tom._

 _I'm here, Kes._

 _Good._ She let out a sigh. _This way is much better. I can act in your stead. Now, what do you need me to do._

 _May I_ , he asked, feeling vulnerable. Tom's thoughts would never be completely private in this corner of Kes's mind. As much as he tried to keep himself hidden, it was impossible with the tasks he needed to achieve. _It seems_ , Commander Paris couldn't help the irony, _you're going to know me better than my wife_.

Smiling at the thought, Kes answered slowly, _I don't think so. When you return to your body, somehow, I know this experience will go with you. Perhaps, it's you who will remember._

Allowing the man control over her physical body, Tom keyed in his codes to make the computer terminal accept Kes's DNA, voice, finger and facial recognition patterns in his stead. Now able to activate the surface to its full potential, it took several minutes for the overrides he'd programmed to stop this very event from occurring to work. That achieved, Commander Paris could finally erect a level ten omega force field around the surgical bay, protecting his corporal body. Tom allowed the photonic doctor access for medical reasons. Kes didn't need to ask why. Once the being inhabiting Captain Paris awoke, it would attempt to complete its task and eliminate the only obstacle standing in the way of returning to the Nebula.

 _Now we need to find a way to get Kate back._ Tom stated, once he returned Kes's ability to control her body.

 _I can feel how much you love her._

 _That won't stop me doing what I have too._

 _I know. I feel the darkness inside you, Tom. What you have been forced to do in the name of the Federation. When this is over, you need to tell the Captain about some of you more dangerous missions. She'll understand._

 _That's not a burden I want my wife to share. Besides, I'm constrained by protocol and confidentiality._

 _Tom, the Captain needs to hear about your mission to Cardassia Prime. It will complete her healing, and yours. You have both suffered enough, through no fault of your own._

 _You can't ever tell anyone what you know, Kes. Kate would be horrified, just as you should._

 _You have my word, but I need to tell you how wrong you are. Now, be quiet. We don't want anyone to know where your mind has gone._

 _Take me back to sick bay, please. I need to see Kate, in case…._

Nodding, Kes ensured the Intelligence office was secured, before retracing her steps. Allowing the door to slide silently open, an astounded doctor attempted to explain why a protective field had suddenly sprung up around Commander Paris. Lt. Commander Tuvok, however, remained as stoic as ever while the Captain watched on impassively.

"I had nothing to do with this," the EMH stated, his tone aggrieved, before turning to Kathryn Paris with a pleading expression.

"I'm sure you didn't," she offered diplomatically. The Captain's eyes flicked to the prostrate man behind the energy barrier. They seemed devoid of any true feeling to Kes.

 _Her mind is blank, Tom._

 _Is this how you see all of us?_

 _No. Usually I'm able to ignore the feelings that surround me, unless I actively choose to listen. The Captain's mind is, absent, supressed, I'm not sure._

 _You mean when my wife looks at me, she's not seeing her husband._

 _Yes._

"Tuvok to Chakotay," the security officer hit his com badge while the mental conversation when on between Kes and Tom. Even for a Vulcan, Tuvok sounded aggrieved at the sudden changes occurring without permission.

"Go ahead," the acting Captain offered in an offhanded manner.

"Your pres….." static issued from the device on the Vulcan's chest. Tuvok's eyebrow rose higher, wondering if this failure might be caused by the same malfunction plaguing the rest of _Voyager_.

"Tuvok, Doctor," Kes spoke softly, indicating they should move into the office before she said more. "The forcefield is for Tom's protection," the Ocampan explained once they were out of the Captain's hearing.

"Why?" Demanded the EMH, slumping into his chair.

Standing at the Doctor's side, the Tactical officer was no less intrigued. However, his logic dictated that if Commander Paris could somehow act through other crew members and use his command codes, then it was possible he might act through a telepath, such as Kes, to protect his physical body. An interesting idea occurred in light of the information gathered during the mind meld with Mr. Paris.

"How," Tuvok enquired, his eye brow rising and his dark eyes scrutinising the young woman before him, "are you communicating with Commander Paris?"

 _Tell them Kes,_ Tom gave his permission.

"I found Tom's Kata floating in his office," she explained. "One of the Komar entities infected the Captain after she'd lost consciousness from her fall. There were no intruders on the shuttle, the phenomena was caused when the being took over the Captain's mind. The Komar, through Captain Paris, caused Commander Paris's injuries. When she wakes, the Captain will try every means at her disposal to take _Voyager_ into that nebula."

"Commander Paris is the only witness to this event," Tuvok's logic understood the threat to Tom's life. "As such, the Komar do not wish their presence to be known. We should refrain from speaking of this further in front of the Captain. Doctor, it is now imperative you keep Captain Paris confined to sickbay."

"Agreed," the EMH frowned, "although how, is going to be an issue. Even if we keep the Captain restricted, we still need to protect Mr. Paris from his wife. You've seen how she reacts to the threat of a sedative."

"An unenviable task," Tuvok responded.

"There's more," Kes spoke quietly but with authority. Telling the men about her encounter in Tom's office silenced them both. "I think I can reunite Tom's Kata with his body, but, he wants the entity removed from the Captain before we try."

"A sensible precaution," Tuvok announced. "I will inform Commander Chakotay of our discussion. At this point, arrangements must be made to ensure _Voyager_ does not approach the Nebula."

Caught up in their discussion, Captain Kathryn Paris watched the deliberation with interest. All three were deep in discussion and not paying the least attention to her. The Komar Entity inhabiting her mind had collected the information it needed and knew the time had come to act. Understanding Kes, the EMH and Tuvok would soon be finished their conversation, the alien presence insisted it was time to act. Rising slowly from her biobed, Kathryn ensured her escape went unwitnessed. Outside sickbay, she made her way directly to the turbolift.

"Deck one," the Captain barked on entering the confined space. She knew it wouldn't be long before her escape was noticed. By then, _Voyager_ had to be within the Nebula.

"Captain on the bridge," Ensign Rollins stated the moment the doors opened.

Chakotay rose from the big chair the moment he heard the announcement, half expecting Kathryn to appear against doctor's orders. Waiting for the woman to approach, he used a wary tone. "I was under the impression the EMH wanted you to stay in sickbay another few hours."

"I'm sure he did," Kathryn responded with a half-smile. "The threat of having my Chief Engineer decompile him has worked in the past. I'm sure it will continue to do so in the future. Now, Mr. Chakotay, report on our progress. I want to know what issues have been plaguing the engine and why we aren't moving."

Unable to withhold the truth, Chakotay frowned. "We don't know how Commander Paris's codes have been accessed and used. However, they are casing the issues with both the impulse and warp drive. B'Elanna and her team are working on the shuttle logs in the hope of finding some answers."

"As I recall," Kathryn took her seat and looked up at Chakotay with a glare, "our Engineer has been doing that for several hours." Before the First Officer could answer, the Captain tapped her comm badge. "Captain to Lt. Torres."

"Go ahead Captain," B'Elanna sounded distracted.

"How are our propulsion issues coming along?" Kathryn asked.

Torres and Kim had finished with the shuttle's memory core and moved to engineering to concentrate of the reconstruction of _Asimov's_ logs. What they found astounded both officers. Not sure what to say, Harry Kim sent Torres a pleading look. He couldn't lie to save himself. Torres, on the other hand, could obviate the truth when required.

"Perhaps it would be better for you to come down here, Captain," B'Elanna suggested, indicating Harry should make preperations. "I'm not sure what to make of our findings."

"On my way. Captain out," Kathryn sighed at her station. "You have the bridge, Mr. Chakotay. I'll be in engineering."

Waiting until the doors closed the woman out, Chakotay comm'ed Tuvok, hoping their communications wouldn't be interrupted this time. Locating him in sickbay, Tuvok and Kes had become aware of the Captain's departure. It didn't surprise Chakotay that Kathryn left against medical advice. It did, however, place him in an untenable position when he learnt of the Komar entity inhabiting her mind.

"Security team alpha to engineering. Phaser's set to stun. You are to apprehend the Captain and return her to sickbay on the double," Chakotay ordered to the shock and amazement of everyone on the bridge. Three former Maquis crew were currently at secondary stations. They glanced at each other, wondering if the time was finally right to mount a mutiny with their former Captain taking command. The remainder of the bridge personnel were too well trained to ignore a direct order from a superior officer. Yet, the fact that officer was Maquis crossed more than one mind. Without either Commander's Tuvok or Paris on the bridge to take charge, there was little they could do.

The sudden silence forced the atmosphere to thicken with tension. Chakotay knew his next movement might cause a riot to occur. Turning to his crew, the First Officer stated, "I am temporarily relieving Captain Kathryn Paris of command until certified medically fit for duty by the EMH. Is that understood?"

"Yes, Sir," several of the Fleeter's answered, a little confused. Although they knew both Captain and Commander Paris had been injured, so far, the exact nature of their wounds hadn't made it into circulation. The Captain's appearance on the bridge seemed to indicate she'd recovered enough to retake command.

"Mr. Rollins, you have the bridge," Chakotay directed as he strode from his usual chair. "Should Captain Paris return, you are to incapacitate her and call for a medical beam out. Under no circumstance is this vessel to enter that nebula. It seems a race of energy being inhabit it, causing the damage to the Captain's shuttle and Commander Paris."

Muttering under his breath about the situation, Chakotay knew he had little choice but to explain his actions to the bridge crew. Attempting to asses all the possible ramifications as he hurried toward Engineering, Tuvok and his team arrived before Chakotay. The Vulcan's gesture stopped the First Officer from entering. Allowing the doors to open, they noticed B'Elanna and Kathryn leaning over an interface with Harry Kim standing in the background. Phaser in his hand, the young Ensign aimed and fired as they approached.

"Commander, Mr. Tuvok," Ensign Kim's relief showed on his young face. Swallowing hard at the grave expression on his superior officer's face, he stuttered, "I can explain."

"There is no need," Tuvok stated calmly, modulating his voice so those within the immediate vicinity could listen. Nodding to his team, they requested a medical beam out and disappeared quickly with the Captain. Undoubtedly, this event would be all over the ship before the Doctor completed his examination. In the tactical officer's opinion, it was time to direct _Voyager's_ rumour mill towards the truth. "The Captain's head injury caused her to act impulsively, leaving sickbay before being medically cleared to return to duty."

"Is Captain Paris going to be alright?" Hogan asked, looking around. It seemed the entire company of engineers wanted to know.

"That is for the doctor to determine," Chakotay took over. A few words of support now, the First officer understood, would go a long way to settling the crew. "I'm sure it won't be long before the Captain is back at the helm. You are all dismissed to your previous duties."

The emotion in Jonas's eyes, as he returned to his station, spoke volumes. The Maquis would not be happy with this decision, even if they understood the time was not appropriate for outright mutiny. For many, it would feel like a betrayal. Chakotay understood he and Ayala would have to be more cautious and sooth many ruffled feathers in the coming days and weeks. He, in particular, needed to re-establish his dedication to the Maquis cause, and recover his former colleagues trust.

"You've found something?" Chakotay asked, glancing around to find Torres had _**that**_ look in her eye, one he knew intimately from _Val Jean_.

"You could say that," B'Elanna stepped aside, waiting for the senior officers to digest what the screen told them. "The shuttle never entered the Nebula, well not more than the exosphere before it was enveloped by the energy creature."

"Komar," Tuvok corrected. Succinctly, as was the Vulcan's way, he informed Chakotay, Torres and Kim of the mind meld with Commander Paris. The information didn't seem surprising to them.

"Well," B'Elanna's internal temperature was rising. "It would have been nice to know this a few hours ago. It would have saved a lot of work trying to decode Commander Paris's subroutines."

"Our efforts need to be directed," Chakotay growled, gaining the senior team's complete attention, "into finding a way to expel this entity from the Captain."

"Well, at least Harry and I achieved that," B'Elanna's eyes flashed dangerously. As if her posture wasn't enough to openly display her displeasure.

"Before I," once again swallowing hard, Ensign Kim confessed, "phasered the Captain, B'Elanna discovered the Komar's distinct energy signature."

"Initially our sensors couldn't distinguish the pattern within the EM radiation band," Torres grinned. "I believe the Komar used this bandwidth," pointing to her display, B'Elanna continued her lecture, "to communicate between themselves. By isolating the frequency, and firing it back at the entity, we believe it would be forced to leave the host."

"I set the phaser to emit a counter pulse," Harry explained.

"Thereby disrupting the entities hold on the Captain. I set up a containment field," B'Elanna finally uncrossed her arms to point out the container sitting several meters away, "and tied it into a modified transporter beam to capture the being."

"Captain Paris is going to wake up with a massive headache," Kim shook his head, "but free of the Komar influence."

"You're with me, Ensign," Chakotay ordered. "The doctor needs to be informed of this development. B'Elanna, when we have impulse, inform the con. I want to get as far away from that nebula as possible. In the meantime, is there any way to return that," pointing to the containment unit, "to where it belongs."

"Engines are on line, Sir," Torres lent against the consul, arms once again crossed over her chest and a satisfied grin on her lips. "As to the Komar, I've designed and replicated a probe. It will continue to emit a warning to any other unsuspecting vessles."

Nodding in acknowledgement and tapping his badge as they left engineering, Chakotay started _Voyager_ back on her course for the Alpha quadrant. In the few minutes before arriving to sickbay, the EMH had reassessed the Captain. Just as the First Officer, Tuvok and Harry Kim entered, they heard the doctor announce all traces of the previous damage to the Captain's neural pathways had inexplicably disappeared.

"I can explain that," Harry looked chagrined.

While the Ensign explained the science, Kes quietly moved to the nearest computer station. Imputing Tom's codes, she deactivated the force field. Approaching his body, the Ocampan asked if he was ready.

 _Yes_ , Tom sounded both enthusiastic and apprehensive.

 _I know I can do this._

 _I trust you Kes._

Unlike a Vulcan Mind Meld, the young woman had only instinct to guide her. Placing a hand behind Tom's neck, and the other over his heart, Kes closed her eyes. Understanding she needed to act as a channel between her mind and Tom's, Kes's hand began to tingle.

 _Kes_ , Tom's voice was infused with panic.

 _Trust me._

 _I do._

 _Then go. Return to your own mind._

 _I don't want to be lost, floating forever._

 _You won't._

In the next instant he was gone. That part of her mind carrying Commander Paris was empty. Opening her eyes, Kes watched the man on the surgical biobed. Seconds, then minutes ticked slowly by, still Tom didn't so much as twitch.

Understanding something monumental had occurred, the EMH appeared at Mr. Paris's side. Waving the tricorder over his patent, the doctor's expression became grave. "Well, his memory engrams as back," he commented, "but the higher brain function has yet to re-establish."

"Give it some time," Kes spoke quietly, removing her hands. Looking up into the concerned eyes of the Captain, the Ocampan could feel the pain radiating from the woman. "Doctor," she indicated.

"Captain," the EMH responded at his very driest, "I'm glad you're awake."

Holding her head in one hand, Kathryn looked up in askance, "what happened. I feel like I've been through a warp core breach!" When everyone stared at her with an anxious expression, she recounted her last memory. "Tom was piloting the shuttle. We'd just entered the nebula when…"

"Right now, I need you too…" the EMH started.

"Right now," Captain Kathryn Paris growled, turning to her First Officer, "I need to you tell me exactly what occurred. Then, doctor," she took one of Tom's limp hands in her own, "I want an update on my husband's condition."

During Chakotay's synopsis of the last ten hours, Tom's eyelids stated to flicker. His hand, encased in both of Kate's, trembled. Ignoring the people surrounding her, Kathryn Paris's attention was captured by a set of blue eyes slowly opening. It took longer for them to focus. In the interim, silence descended on sickbay.

"Kate," Tom croaked.

"I'm here, Tom," she smiled, leaning over the biobed. "Rest now. I have to get Voyager underway. When I've been fully debriefed, I'll come back and sit with you."

"Love you," Tom's eyes wouldn't allow her to look away, nor his hand release hers.

Leaning in, Kate kissed her husband lightly on the lips, before whispering in his ear, "I love you too, Tom. However, it would seem we have a lot to discuss, Commander."

O


	27. Repercussions

**Part Twenty-Seven: Repercussions.**

 **AN:** Trying to do several stories as once is proving exhausting and time consuming. I'm finding the muse for Tom and Kate comes and goes, even though I'm still writing in their universe. I'm going to try and complete this work first, or at least publish weekly. Although, when the muse strikes, it's hard to ignore, especially as many of them come from your comments which just make an author's day. Thank you all for your continuing support and encouragement. It is truly appreciated.

* * *

Once she'd been released from Sickbay, Captain Kathryn Paris headed directly for _**her**_ bridge, stopping at the quarters she shared with her husband long enough for a sonic shower and new uniform. Kathryn been out of circulation a total of twenty-seven hours, the doctor initiating a medical override to keep her prostrate on a biobed overnight. Far too long, in the Captain's opinion, especially with the Komar entity taking over her mind, and intending to harm _Voyager_ and her crew. An over developed sense of responsibility was giving Kathryn's guilt a good workout. Although repairs had been started, and B'Elanna manufactured a space buoy to keep other unsuspecting vessels out of the Nebula, there was a delicate and elusive feeling on her ship Kathryn didn't like. It permeated every step of her journey to deck one. The Captain understood the undercurrent only too well and what it meant.

Ordering her First and Tactical officers into her ready room, Kathryn recognised this event had fracted the balance of power within the command team and polarised the crew. Once again, they were Starfleet and Maquis. Walking into the Captain's official sanctuary, one look told the Chakotay that Kathryn's anger and frustration was directed inward. Cold, hard, grey eyes looked out on her senior officers. The Commanders understood this event had stirred up too many repressed emotions. Tom's enforced roster of meals with his wife meant they'd gotten to know the individual behind the Captain's tough veneer. Captain Kathryn Paris's resentment was about to be unleashed and they were directly in the firing line.

Stoically, both men recounted their actions over the ten hours encompassing the threat to _Voyager_. Once her First and Tactical Officers had completed their verbal reports, Kathryn Paris sat in silence, grey eyes continuing to pierce the Lt. Commanders. It seemed they were reluctant to face the white elephant in the room. She, however, was not. Not when it came to the wellbeing of her ship and crew.

"This was a perfect opportunity to change the dynamics on this ship," Kathryn Paris stated coolly, her gaze resting on Chakotay. She knew he comprehended her meaning the moment the man's posture became ridged. "On my way to the bridge, I felt the change in the atmosphere, a division of loyalties, much like the first days on this ship with a combined crew. Would you care to explain, Mr. Chakotay?"

"I'd be lying," the First Officer, much to his better judgement confessed, "if I say the thought of leaving you and Commander Paris to your fate didn't cross my mind or that of other former Maquis crew."

"Thank you for your honesty, Mr. Chakotay. Dismissed," the Captain ordered crisply. Her eyes followed the man, before turning to her long-time friend.

"I had precautions in place, Captain," Tuvok responded to the unasked question.

"Something like this can never be allowed to happen again," the Captain warned.

"Then," Tuvok stated in his maddeningly logical tone, "may I suggest, you and Commander Paris do not attempt an away mission together again. The probability of a mutiny increased significantly on this occasion. Should both of you become incapacitated in the future, I doubt Commander Chakotay could stop the former Maquis attempting to gain control of _Voyager_ , possibly with the aid of the Kazon."

Her teeth clenched, Kathryn understood Tuvok's warning only too well. Nodding, the Vulcan assumed he, too, had been dismissed. Before exiting the ready room, the Tactical Officer turned to glance at the Captain. Her eyes remained fixed on the stars beyond her windows. An expression of pain crossed her face. Unable to aid his friend, Tuvok recalled an event on _Billings_ that created the same feelings in, then, Commander Kathryn Paris. The only person who had been able draw her from the self-recrimination and guilt had been her husband. Tuvok had not hesitated on that occasion to call Mr. Paris to deal with the situation, just as he would not consider any other path in this instance. Bypassing the bridge, the Tactical officer headed directly for deck six.

===\\\/===

"Take a seat Gentlemen," Captain Paris made an order of the request.

The Intelligence and First officer looked at each other before choosing chairs opposite the Captain's desk in the ready room. Commander Paris had been released from Sickbay two hours previously and forewarned of his wife's current brooding mood. Allowed another day of rest before being due back at the Con, Tom hadn't expected the comm from his wife this soon, which did bode well for the Captain's mental health. Kate, on the other hand, had returned to work the moment the doctor released her two days ago. Busying herself with ships business, his wife visited once on the first day, twice yesterday and came to collect him this morning, before dumping him in their quarters and returning to duty.

Even during the short visits, the increasing distance between them worried Tom. Commander Paris remembered every second of the Komar incident and understood Chakotay gave an honest account of his actions. He knew Kate's guilt would be working overtime at the thought of being so weak as to almost cause her crew to become fodder for the Komar. So far, he hadn't been given the opportunity to ameliorate his wife's emotions and the self-flagellation that came with it. Nor the insistence of blaming herself for the damage to the crew caused by the married Command couple being indisposed together. The conclusion Captain Paris would draw, if she hadn't been spending private time with her husband, this event would never have occurred.

"Thank you for your report on the recent situation, Mr. Chakotay," the Captain said in a hard, toneless voice, returning Tom's attention to his wife. He didn't like what he saw.

Glancing at each other once again, Chakotay and Tom's gaze said the same thing. _So, this is how it's going to be_. Although neither man wanted to say it, the Captain's moods could be as mercurial as the Chief Engineers at times. This proving to be one of them.

"However, its what's not in this report that concerns me," Kathryn's grey glare pieced the First Officer then turned on her husband.

Before this subject could undo all the hard work both he and Kate achieved with Commander Chakotay, Tom cleared his throat. Glancing at the man beside him, the Intelligence Officer indicated the First Officer was dismissed. Technically of a higher rank, Chakotay had little choice but to leave, unless the Captain dictated he stay. Kathryn Paris's gaze narrowed on her husband and a battle of wills commenced.

 _This is an argument between the Captain and her Intelligence Officer,_ he told himself _. I'm not sure I'd like to be in Mr. Paris's shoes right now. Then again, Tom looks fit to kill his wife. Giving them time alone in that shuttle certainly backfired. They came back as mortal enemies. If Kes hadn't uncovered Tom's soul, we'd never have gotten him back. If the Captain lead us into that nebula..._

Shaking his head, Chakotay rose from his chair. That thinking lead in circles. Still, serving on the same ship for the last seven months, he understood Kathryn Paris would blame herself for this entire incident, just as Mr. Pairs warned him. The fact Tom had been prepared to dispose of the body containing the Komar entity, and that the body was his wife's, spoke volumes. Unaccountably, the First Officer wondered what else the Mr. Paris had done in his career. The conversation on the holodeck returned, as did the fact Tom stated _this wasn't my first foray into Cardassian territory._ Ten years tactical experience and three in the Maquis, Chakotay knew what that meant.

"I'll take it from here, Commander," Tom's tone implied understanding of the thoughts running through Chakotay's mind. "I will be placing a commendation in your permeant file in regards to your conduct throughout this incident, paying special consideration to your previous allegiance and the actions you took to stave off a mutiny on _Voyager_ in a tense situation. I hope my trust is well earnt."

"Thank you," Chakotay muttered, noticing the furious expression on the Captain's face. Beating a hasty retreat, he understood Paris knew of the Maquis meetings. Much to Tom's displeasure, his wife had forced the Intelligence operatives' hand.

Standing when the door silently slid closed, Tom's back became ridged as he turned away from his wife. More than enraged, she'd just driven the Maquis underground. It would take weeks to re-establish their meeting times and places. In the meantime, any unresolved feelings towards the Intelligence Officer would surface. Commander Paris expected more than a few surly 'Yes, Sir's,' in the near future.

"I hope your happy, Captain," the words came out infuriated. Finally, able to get his countenance under regulation, Commander Thomas Paris turned to face the woman still seated behind her desk. "You have waisted months of careful fact gathering and trust because you couldn't contain your feeling of guilt and responsibility over something that was not your fault. How many times are we going to go through this, Kate! When are you going to appreciate things beyond your control happen, especially out here, as the only Federation vessel in this quadrant."

"What was I supposed to do, Commander," Kathryn stood, hands splayed on the surface before her. If she walked around the object separating them, she'd gladly take her ire out on the man glaring at her. "Mr. Chakotay might not have acted on his impulses, but he had them. It's my duty to expose any threat to this crew, even if that threat comes from me and especially my direct subordinate. The Atmosphere on the bridge is untenable. Every time I walk thought the corridors of _Voyager_ , at least one of the former Maquis eyes me wirily. This even has divided my crew, again!"

"We both know Chakotay had the perfect opportunity to dispose of us both, and that some of his former colleagues will always be ready to take any advantage. That's the Maquis way. I informed you when they first came on board, divide and conquer is their preferred method." Tom growled. "However, your First Officer didn't choose to mutiny. I suspect because of his loyalty towards you! A loyalty created by almost destroying our marriage and informing him of our own history with the Cardassian's. A loyalty Chakotay will now question at every level, especially if it's driven by me. Chakotay knows my allegiance is completely dedicated to you first and Starfleet second."

Snorting, Kathryn shook her head. "This is not about our _**personal**_ relationship, _**Mr. Paris**_."

"Like hell it's not," Tom inexplicably deflated. Shoulders slumped, he walked up the two steps to the lounge area. Taking up an at ease position, the Commander gazed out the window, not seeing the stars beyond. "I would have killed you, Kate, if I had to, if Torres and Kim hadn't discovered a way to remove the Komar entity from your mind and Chakotay knows that. He's seen me in action. I've killed for less, in the name of the Maquis, the Federation and Starfleet. As hard as it would have been to live with myself afterwards, make no mistake that our personal relationship would not have saved you. My mission was to ensure _Voyager_ and her crew remained out of that Nebula, at any cost."

Recalling Kes's words, Tom shook his head. He understood her warning now, when it was too late. Both he and Kate would always hurt each other out here in the Delta quadrant. They'd be forced to work from different perspective in their professional lives, while attempting to retain a semblance of normal in their marriage. So far it had worked, only because they hadn't been on opposite sides of the same argument. This was different. Given no other option, Commander Thomas Eugen Paris would have executed the being causing harm to _Voyagers_ crew. That the entity invaded his wife's mind was not a consideration. At least it shouldn't have been.

"About four years ago," Tom started, quietly, reverently, tonelessly, as Kate was still trying to take in his previous words, "I was sent undercover into Cardassian territory. It was a strike and grab mission. My assignment was to extract a Federation Politician whose ship had strayed too close to the DMZ. After being captured, she was being held for questioning. You can imagine my surprise when Dudre Lek commanded the vessel I tracked my target too."

Hearing Kate's sudden intake of breath, Tom knew she's recognised the name. He could imagine the expression crossing her face. Yet, the professional in him couldn't turn around and witness his wife's reaction to the man who lead her assault.

"Bromil Rodet, Gaaja Praatt and Vomcos Amlar were on his crew, still taking his orders." The silence grew as Tom named the other men who'd defiled his wife all those years ago. "The last two gave me a good working over after my discovery and imprisonment. The poorly healed breaks in my fingers, arms and legs are the results of trying to make me talk, to confess to being a Federation spy. I didn't break, Kate, I'm trained not too." A sudden hollow laughter was cut off unmercifully. "That's what went wrong on Banea, why their device didn't work. I remember the look on every single person's face the moment I murdered them. I know you had the Doctor start a file on me, on the results of that incarceration, and many others just like it over the years you were on _Billings_."

"Did," approaching very cautiously, Kathryn Paris was horrified at the emotionless tone her husband used to recount his horrific assignments. Stopping at the bottom step, something in Tom's posture demanded she not approach any closer. He needed to get this out, to unburden himself, perhaps even explain, even though it went against every regulation in Starfleet Intelligence. "Did you kill them, out of revenge."

"No," Tom finally turned, his expression as blank as his tone. "I killed the last two out of pure need, to survive and complete my mission when I escaped with the Noreena Gilbertson. They were attempting to 'interrogate' her." Just the way he said those words brought back memories of her own inquisition. "I suspect she fought as hard as you did, Kate. Revenge, is a dish best served cold, Captain. Dudre Lek and Bromil Rodet learnt that lesson the hard way. I ensured the Cardassian Central Command never trusted the pair again by planting information in their ship's computer. They were given sideways promotions when evidence of their duplicity was uncovered. Never would they be placed in a position to treat female prisoner's as items to be enjoyed."

"Why are you telling me this now, Tom," Kathryn attempted to understand. While her guilt had taken a step back, she couldn't understand the man before her. This was not her husband, not the lover who cared and held when the memories assaulted her on occasion.

"Because," he finally sighed, "professionally, you've put me in an untenable position, Captain, exactly the same position you've placed Chakotay in. You've allowed your guilt to overwhelm you, destroying months of careful work to integrate the Maquis into this crew. Now, you're pushing me away on a personal level. Are you frightened of me, Kate?"

Shaking her head, Kathryn Paris didn't quite understand her own emotions, especially after Tom's confession. She'd seen the darker side of him recently. Understood there was much he couldn't tell her about his clandestine assignments. While every Starfleet Officer comprehended the ramifications of an Intelligence career, her husband had been forced to live it.

"Don't," Tom was suddenly at her side, holding her tightly. "Kate, I chose this career to be near you, to be in a different command structure. This is not your fault and I would do it all over again if it meant ending up together on _Voyager_. It's time we stopped blaming ourselves for the things we can't control, for the times we have to be on opposite sides of the battle."

"It's not that easy, Tom," Kathryn buried her head into his shoulder. " _Voyager_ and her crew, they are my responsibility. I made a promise to see this crew safely home."

"It's a part of you," he agreed, refusing to let go when he felt his wife become the Captain. "I've said it before, we will both be forced to do and say things on this journey in our professional lives that will affect us personally. I'm going to have to return to the Gamma shift, to gather information on the Maquis movements. I'm probably going to get beaten up a few times, sticking my nose into places others don't think it belongs. In the end, we're working towards the same goal, getting everyone home and allowing us bring up to our son as a family. That's what you have to hang onto, Kate, the bigger picture. In the end, nothing matters except in this moment."

"This to, shall pass," Kathryn Paris whispered.

"And more quickly than it should," Tom responded, "at least for some of us who don't hold onto their resentment."

"You know I'm still angry with you, Commander," Captain Paris announced as she pulled away from her husband's warmth. She could see his, you think I don't know that face, without looking. "And with Chakotay. But mostly I'm furious I let myself become a vehicle that might have destroyed my ship and crew, allowing this situation to erupt in the first place."

"This event has shattered Chakotay's loyalty with many of the former Maquis. It's fragmented them," Tom announced sadly, "making my job that much harder. I need to uncover the connections within the groups, find out who's most likely to contact Seska and the Nistrim when they think we have been weakened by this event."

"You honestly think there is still a threat?" Kathryn asked.

"The probability increased with your treatment of Chakotay in the wake of this incident, Kate," Tom responded mournfully. "It would have been better if you'd patted him on the back like a good First Officer, praised his willingness to take over your duties. He would have responded to that better than your distrust. Chakotay will have to work twice as hard to regain the confidence of the twenty-five former Maquis members. I discount Ayala and Torres for obvious reasons. The rest are in disarray, the exact position I was hoping to avoid."

"Why?" Kathryn enquired, afraid she knew the answer.

"Because it's almost a certainty I'll have to leave _Voyager_ at some point," Tom finally allowed his greatest fear into words, "to dispose of Seska."

"No," the Captain had emerged. "I won't allow it."

"You don't have a choice, Captain," the Commander returned. "This situation comes under my division and is independent of your command structure." Softening, Tom made for the rear door, "I'll give you as much warning as I can, Kate. You know I can't let that woman remain, alive, in this quadrant."

"I'm not going to get you back, am I?" she asked, feeling the tears welling in her eyes.

"Not this time," Tom agreed. "I want to make as many memories as we can until that time Kate. No matter what happens, or when, this is not your fault. The blame lays entirely with Seska."

With that Commander Paris turned and walked through the door. Once in the turbolift, he comm'ed Tuvok. "Operation Embargo has commenced," he stated on a closed channel.

"Understood, Commander," Tuvok's tone remained mercifully expressionless. "I will ensure the Captain is consulted at the appropriate times."

"Tuvok," Tom's voice pleaded, "look after her when I'm gone."

Closing the channel before the Vulcan could answer, Commander Paris made his way to the holodeck. Searching through his private programs, he found the Cardassian training simulation. Entering, he was surrounded by the grey halls of a Fourth Order Battle Cruiser. Three steps later Tom Paris took down his first opponent after a few seconds savage hand to hand combat.

"One down," he muttered, silently making his way towards the critical systems with the dead Cardassian's weapon, "several hundred to go."

Expecting the Kazon to fight every bit as deviously as the Cardassian's, especially if Seska had anything to do with their training, Tom needed to be in top condition. Understanding he had weeks before things would come to the point where he needed to leave, it gave him time to hone his skills. Eventually, he'd need to complete this simulation with the safeties off.

===\\\\\/===

Chakotay was conflicted. More conflicted than he'd felt when deciding to leave Starfleet after a twenty-year career to join the Maquis and defend his ancestor's home. Once again, torn between two worlds, he looked back on the last seven months and how they'd shaped him as a person. Somewhere, at some time, he'd slipped back into the known, the comfortable, the career that supported him from the age of sixteen to thirty-six. He'd come to understand Captain Paris and her determination to get this crew, a crew that was slowly combining, back to the Alpha quadrant and their respective homes. Chakotay saw so much of himself in Commander Paris. He'd been wounded by the Cardassian's in a way many on his former crew understood only too well. Under other circumstances, Thomas Paris would have made an excellent addition to the Maquis cause.

"Hell," Chakotay muttered under his breath, "for the six months Nick Locarno served on _Val Jean_ , he made more than an excellent addition. The man wormed his way into my confidences. He was one of the best officers I'd ever worked with. I should have known he had more than almost four years at the academy. His professionalism can only be covered by that mischievous exterior to a certain extent. I just didn't want to see it!"

Snorting, Chakotay stood from his chair on the bridge. Little of any import occurring in the space before or behind them, he turned command over to Lt. Rollins. Striding to the turbolift, the First Officer noticed the Captain's ready room door remained closed. He had little idea what occurred between Commander and Captain Paris in the private space but knew it had to do with the Maquis and the Komar situation. He'd had the perfect opportunity to take the ship, change the power structure and leave the power couple behind. Yet, like the good Starfleet Officer, Chakotay didn't.

Shaking his head, _Voyager's_ first officer made his way to his quarters. He needed time to think, to consider his next move. Many of the Maquis were questioning his loyalty before this event. Jonas couldn't understand why they didn't sell or trade technology to the Kazon for safe passage. At least five others supported his ideas in varying strength. Ayala could be counted on, no matter what his personal thoughts. Mike made it well known, he just wanted to get home to his wife and sons. He considered a vessel, commanded by Cpt. Paris to be the best option with limited resources. Then there where others, Torres and Hogan chiefly among them, who'd seamlessly melded into the crew. Along with Fitzpatrick, Canamar, Carsen, Smithee and Javin, half of whom were female, they maintained their friendship with Commander Paris, even after his true identity had been revealed. They formed the section of Chakotay's former crew who were less disposed to partake in any mutiny.

"Paris," the First Officer hissed, finally understanding just how good he was at his job. "You've been working to split the loyalties of my former crew, to uncover who's most likely to contact Seska and the Nistrim. I can't believe I missed this. Then again, I was too busy trying to the Captain's right hand."

In a flash of blinding awareness, Chakotay understood just how far Commander Tom Paris would go to ensure _Voyager's_ wellbeing. On the holodeck, all those months ago, he'd given the First Officer enough information to make the assumptions Tom had wanted. Reviewing the entire conversation, he understood Admiral Paris would have long considered Kate Paris a daughter.

"They'd been married ten years before we got lost in this quadrant," Chakotay chastised himself. "Why didn't I see this before?"

Sinking into the nearest chair, this fact shouldn't change anything, but it did. Captain Paris knew exactly what the Cardassian's were capable of. What the Kazon might turn into, given Alpha quadrant technology. It had been the reason she'd chosen to destroy the array, to strand _Voyager_ so far from home. It had been the reason for including the Maquis into her crew. Occasionally, when Kathryn Paris thought no one was watching, Chakotay had seen the shuttered expression as she observed one of his former crew attempting to integrate.

"I can't believe," he chastised again, "I missed this. It changes everything."

His tactical experience with Starfleet kicking in, Chakotay knew the next steps Commander Paris would take. He knew Seska wasn't Tom's problem but the Intelligence officer would only recognise her as a threat to their journey home and this region of space. Chakotay had allowed the traitor onto his ship, brought her to this quadrant.

"The fault is mine," the First Officer whispered, shaking his head at the revelations cascading down on his, "and so must the remedy be. I'm not going to let you die out here, when you and Kathryn have suffered every bit as much as many of the Maquis. I'll take Seska out myself."

* * *

 **AN:** faces is next. There is no way I can leave that episode out. However, I'm thinking of putting a Chakotay/Torres spin on it. After that, I'm going to speed though the rest of season one and parts of season two. I'll only choose the episodes that lead up to the final confrontation between _Voyager_ and the Nistrim.


	28. Calm Before the Storm

**Chapter Twenty-Eight: Calm Before the Storm.**

 **AN:** Well this holiday was great, until some really, really nice person decided they needed my son and my passport more than I did. Suffice to say, we weren't allowed on our cruise ship. A lot of money and time later, we now have emergency passports and are on our way to Noumea to catch up with our ship. Let's hope I get the time to write! Unfortunately, I have access to lots and lots of red wine and intend to use it to best advantage. So, any spelling mistakes are not my fault, the wine made me do it!

"Hey, Starfleet," B'Elanna called to her friend.

Harry's expression, one of shocked interest, indicated the half Klingon Chief Engineer should join him at the table, where he sat alone. "You know," he leant over and whispered, his eyes flicking to the others in the mess, "you shouldn't call me that. Ever since that Komar entity took over the Captain, it's like _Voyager's_ gone back to the time we first combined the crews."

Grunting, B'Elanna sat. Even then, Torres and Kim had been friends, against the odds and due entirely to being held prisoner on the Ocampan world by the Caretaker. It didn't take long for B'Elanna to return to the previous comradery with Paris. His name might have changed, but his personality hadn't. Thinking about it, Torres hadn't seen Tom or Kate at Sandrine's this last week. In fact, she didn't recall seeing Commander Paris around at all and the Captain had been in an awful mood for at least a fortnight.

"Remember what it was like," Harry shook his head, "when no one trusted each other."

"Not between you and me, and not in Engineering," Torres claimed, loud enough for those at the tables around them to hear. Not stupid by anyone's standards, it took that first shift for B'Elanna to understand why Commander Paris insisted she leave the other Maquis and accompany him into the department that would soon become her domain. Since that day, B'Elanna wouldn't allow politics in her division. Her crew were Engineers, plain and simple. They answered to her as the Chief, and her behaviour was directed by whims of her engines. "I wouldn't allow it back then and I won't allow it now, _**Starfleet**_. Maybe you should do the same."

"You'll never change, _**Maquis**_ ," Harry grinned, suddenly feeling lighter and years younger. "Must be that Klingon temper you warned me about on the Ocampan world."

"You'd better believe it," B'Elanna smiled. Playing with her food, Neelix had outdone himself. The gelatinous blob smelt as repulsive as it tasted.

"Hey," Harry asked, pushing away the half-finished plate in the hope of having a normal conversation with his friend, "do you ever wonder why it was just us, you and me, that were transported off our ships by the Caretaker? I mean, there are some similarities."

"Like?" Torres prompted, studying the young Asian man before her. Although the same age, Harry Kim was still naive, trusting and hopeful, the anthesis of B'Elanna's cynically suspicious personality. He'd been bought up by older parents dedicated to their son, in a tight knit family. She'd been torn between two cultures, abandoned by her father at twelve and mother at seventeen. Harry found the love of his life and planned to propose to his long-time girlfriend after this first mission. Torres was still waiting to find a man that would return her feelings, or want more than the novelty of a Klingon partner.

"We're both Engineers," Harry clarified, confused by the rapid expression crossing his friends face.

"I don't care why, I'm just glad he did," Torres teased. "You've become one of my closest friends, Starfleet."

"Apart from your ridges," Ensign Kim couldn't help make the sudden comparison, "our hair, eyes and skin are the same colour."

That bought a smile to B'Elanna's lips. "Meaning?" she asked.

"I don't know," a puzzled expression crossed Harry's innocent face. "I guess if I'd never seen a Klingon woman and Asian male, I might guess they were the same species."

Snorting, her eyes laughing, B'Elanna actually understood. There were differences between the male and female Ocampa. You had to look carefully at their ears to see the disparity. "So, some genetic variation gives girls ridges and boys almond shaped eyes."

"I'm just suggesting," Harry tried to back pedal but became embarrassed and lost for words.

"I know, Starfleet," B'Elanna couldn't keep a chuckle contained. Becoming serious once again, Torres returned to their earlier conversation. "Look, we've had seven months living and working together. I never though Joe Carey and I could be more than colleagues, but I count on that man to keep my Engine room running smoothly when I'm on an away mission. I'm not going to let anyone, Fleet, Maquis or civilian's stop _Voyager_ from getting back to the Alpha quadrant."

"Not even an alien taking over your mind?" Harry smirked.

The look Torres shot him stated 'as if that would happen to a Klingon'. "I know the whole Komar situation caused problems between the command team. But you know what, that's their issue. Their grown-ups and they need to solve it like adults and let the rest of us get on with our jobs."

"I heard Commander Paris was attacked again," Harry sighed, unable to explain the tense atmosphere on the bridge to his friend. B'Elanna spent as little time at the Engineering station on deck one as possible. "I can't believe there is anyone who'd want to hurt Tom. The Captain's got him back on Alpha shift, starting tomorrow."

Torres snorted. "Tom only got beaten up because he wanted too."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ensign Kim demanded.

The rumours of his first attack in the early days of Voyager circulated after this latest assault. Few would have known about it, if Crewman Valarie Canamar waited another few minutes to attend sickbay with a sprained wrist. She'd seen the Captain chastising her husband for allowing himself to be harassed when he was well and truly able to defend himself. She wanted the names of Commander Paris's attackers, which he refused to divulge.

"Harry," Tom slipped into the seat beside the pair, "you shouldn't ask questions you don't want the answers too."

Snickering, B'Elanna couldn't see any of the bruising she'd expected. "Remember, Nick and I worked together for six months on _Val Jean_. Believe me, if there was a Cardy within a parsec, he'd be the only person you wanted on your side. Of course, none of us knew he was Commander Paris, Intelligence officer back then."

"The good old days, hey, Torres," Tom smiled easily. To which the woman snorted once again. "Come on, we spent quality time together on _Val Jean_."

"Is that what you call it. I seem to remember you talking about how much you missed your wife," B'Elanna responded teasingly. "You've never seen such a sucker, Starfleet, as this man."

"You've been reading those Klingon romance novels gain," Tom grinned, rising from his chair and preparing to leave the mess, "haven't you, Torres? Don't let her fool you, Harry, there is a flesh and blood heart that actually beats under all that bravado. Anyway, I came to let you know, you and Dust are with me on the away mission tomorrow. Oh eight hundred in shuttle bay two. Don't stay out late."

"Isn't tonight Date night," B'Elanna raised an eyebrow, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Yep," Tom grinned enthuastically, "so I'll be in a good mood, if my wife comes to the party."

While B'Elanna shook her head, Harry's eyes couldn't have been wider. He still had trouble accepting Commander Paris's teasing, especially where it included the Captain. No matter how many time's they'd gone to Sandrine's socially, the young Ensign felt slightly uncomfortable with his commanding officers in civilian clothing.

Tom, on the other hand, was about as far from feeling his normal playful self as possible. His wife had been putting in any number of extra hours in the attempt to relieve her self-inflicted guilt. Which meant Tom barely saw either Kate or the Captain with his new Gamma shift roster. When they were together, Kathryn Paris turned inwards, refusing support from her spouse. Having already tried, this time Tom couldn't help shake her feelings of culpability and shame.

Not that his information gathering efforts were faring any better. Where ever the Maquis were meeting and how they communicated the location of their gatherings eluded the Intelligence officer completely. Commander Paris tracked the First officer's movements for the last three weeks. Analysis determined he was doing little more than his job and meditating. Ensign Ayala's whereabouts gave little more insight. It appeared both Chakotay and his right-hand man had lost power in that organisation which only made Commander Paris's job that much harder. It seemed the Maquis had gone underground.

Making one of his famous snap decisions, Tom headed for the Bridge. Kate sat in her command chair, Chakotay already off duty. The Beta shift well into its third hour, the faces of the junior officers asked each other if this would be another shift with the Captain refusing to leave. Commander Paris almost heard the sigh of relief when he entered from the turbolift and came to sit beside his wife.

"All calm," the Captain reported without turning her head or acknowledging her senior officer.

"Out there," Tom returned, his azure gaze focused on Kate. "Internally, humiliation seems to be the order of the day."

"Mr. Paris," Kathryn's voice could have cut glass.

"Mrs. Paris," the Commander appeared. His tone low and deadly, getting in first, before she could reprimand him. "As the only fully trained field medic, I am suggesting you come with me of you own free will. Don't make me carry you off this bridge, Kate. This ends, now."

Finally turning to look into the determined, but concerned eyes of her husband, the Captain nodded, as if accepting the suggestion from of one of her subordinates. She didn't say a word until the doors closed out the bridge. "How dare you?"

"I could ask the same question, Captain," the Commander's voice matched that of his wife. Glaring at each other, Tom called for deck six. Neither said another word until they entered their private version of Sandrine's. They always came here, to neutral but familiar ground, to air their professional differences.

Before the Captain could continue her attack, Commander Paris needed to get his point across. "Your behaviour is intolerable. Your presence on the bridge unnecessary. Your attitude is affecting every member of this crew. The moment you appear, the atmosphere changes. Regret and blame are an unacceptable excuse for the disruption your conduct is causing throughout this ship. Snap out of it, Kate, before you damage more than professional relationships."

"What is that supposed to mean?" the irate woman demanded. Hands on hips, both Tom and Kate knew the stance.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Tom remained ram rod straight, towering over his tiny wife. Blue orbs sparkling with supressed emotion, he pursed his lips. Not another word would leave his lips, nor could his wife leave the holodeck. Mr. Paris ensured they had complete privacy while Mrs. Paris couldn't leave without his authorisation.

"Arch," Kathryn ordered. Her tone turning harsh when she uncovered Tom's subterfuge. Yet both heard the slight pleading, the supressed hurt and humiliation. "Commander, release the arch."

Shaking his head, Tom remained still but continued to hold Kate's gaze.

"This is insubordination," the Captain threatened. When she didn't get a response, Kathryn used her last weapon. However, emotional manipulation rarely worked on her husband. "I find you guilty of detaining a superior officer against her will and order you to report to the brig. You will serve seven days and this will go into your permanent record."

Ignoring the directive, Tom uncrossed his arms. Brought his hands up and applauded her display. That done, he pivoted on his heel and headed for the nearest table. Taking a seat, he indicated to the chair on the opposite side. Eyeing him warily from across the room, Kathryn Paris didn't quite know how to handle this version of her husband. Never had Tom been so obtuse, so unforgiving, so quiet, so intent and so determined to get his own way.

The atmosphere in the bistro became untenable, yet, Tom Paris continued his silent perusal of his wife. The longer the stifling mood continued, the more uncomfortable Kathryn became. Still, her Irish temper required time and effort to quell. Finally understanding she'd demonstrated the exact behaviour her husband had indicated, the Captain sighed with frustration and sat.

"Can we talk like to adults now?" Tom asked, keeping his face a mask of neutrality.

Nodding, Kate indicated she'd listen. They were at a stalemate and both knew it. However, the situation was far too important for Tom to back down. He needed to wait this out, not come up with his usual compromise. This time, for any real change to occur, his wife had to acknowledge her emotions, or she'd become jaded and cynical as the Delta quadrant drained the life out of her.

It took thirty-seven minutes before Kate finally blurted, "I'm so dam angry, at you, at Chakotay, but mostly at myself."

"Why," Tom asked.

Giving him her famous glare, Kathryn sighed and shook her head. "Because this time it would have been me that destroyed _Voyager_. As if we don't have enough enemies, this bloody quadrant attempted to turn the Captain against her ship."

"The Komar used you, Kate," Tom stated softly.

"I know that, but I let them," she shouted.

"Had it been Chakotay, or Tuvok, or any other crew member on that shuttle," he responded softly, "it might have been them."

"But it wasn't," Kathryn's tone softened, became reflective and emotional. "they tried to kill you, Tom and took over my mind. What does that say about me, my ability to get this crew home. This is the second time your life's been in danger because of me, my decisions."

"Hey," the sound of his chair scraping drew her eyes to the man swiftly approaching. Pulling her into his arms, Tom held his wife close. He felt her tears, but knew they were cathartic and necessary. "I've been in worst situations and still come through."

"You really would have done anything to stop me," Kathryn swallowed, "even ended my life."

"Let's be thankful Harry and B'Elanna came up with another way to eject the Komar from your mind," he soothed, not wanting to voice his agreement.

"Tell me about your first mission," Kathryn pleaded. "Sometimes, I feel like I don't know you anymore. Sometimes I think I don't know myself."

"I don't think anyone on _Voyager_ is the same person that came aboard," Tom agreed. Smirking, he added in a light tone, "you really want to hear about my first mission." When the woman in his arms nodded, Mr. Paris smiled. It seemed they would weather this storm, but the result had changed them both significantly. "We'd only been married two weeks. Remember, I went on an away mission to Temmor II that took significantly longer than expected."

===\\\\\/===

Chakotay stood before the doors of shuttle bay two. Paris was already aboard Tereshkova and had commenced pre-flight checks. He's heard the Commander and Captain tied up Holodeck one for the better part of the night. This morning Kathryn seemed less irritated and the atmosphere on the bridge quickly dissipated after her early arrival as she greeted the crew cautiously but cheerfully.

"I thought you'd be seeing Tom off," Chakotay stated, testing the waters. When the Captain smiled, the rest of the bridge crew relaxed completely.

"We already said our goodbyes. It's not as if my husband hasn't been on long away missions before," she teased. Suddenly turning serious, Kathryn started to apologise, "Chakotay."

Shaking his head before she could say another word, the First officer offered, "I'm glad Tom could get through to you. We've all been worried."

Allowing her famous eyebrow to rise in a very Vulcan gesture, the Captain queried, "all?"

"I've done a lot of talking to my sprit guide the last three weeks," Chakotay smirked.

"Attempting to find yourself," Kathryn asked, curious. It seemed they were having a very delicate conversation.

"Perhaps my place on this ship," Chakotay answered.

"Did you come to any conclusions?" Turning serious, the Captain finally understood she was not the only one undergoing a metamorphosis after the Komar situation.

"You asked me if I had the experience and understood the bond between a Captain and her First officer. You asked me to put aside my allegiance to the Maquis and make them our crew. You needed to count on me and trust me, with _Voyager_ and her crew," Chakotay recalled.

"Can I?" the Captain allowed that eyebrow to rise once again.

"Completely," Chakotay found himself smiling and his eye twinkling with delight. "Even if some alien decided to take over your mind and your husband attempted to restore the balance."

Nodding her acknowledgment, Kathryn stood, taking her place in the middle of the trilevel bridge. "Mr. Chakotay," she ordered, "perhaps you'd like to give the away team their final instructions."

"Yes, Captain." Chakotay understood this to be an apology, in the only fashion a Captain could apologise to her First officer in the middle of the bridge.

"What are you doing, old man," Torres teased as she rounded the corner into shuttle bay two and almost collided with her friend.

"Waiting for you," Chakotay declared.

Snorting, B'Elanna shook her head. "Look, I'll be careful. I have Paris with me. I was telling Harry about some of the escapades we got up to while on _Val Jean_ last night."

"Now I'm really worried," Chakotay mock frowned. "Come on, I have final orders for you, Paris and Durst."

Rolling her eyes, Torres lead the way into the shuttle. Tom, seated in the pilot's chair greeted them easily. "What are you doing here, Chakotay?"

"Captain sent me down," he responded.

"Likely story," Tom teased. "More like you couldn't let Torres leave without saying goodbye. You know, we're only going to be away from _Voyager_ a few days while you survey the Avery system. I just hope you find someone to trade with while we're off inspecting of the magnesite formations on the third planet."

"I've left a list of the most urgent materials required," B'Elanna stated, "with Joe Carey."

"I'll see what I can do, Chief," Chakotay managed a straight face while his tone implied sarcasm. "Stay safe you two. Durst, don't let them argue too much," he ordered the young crewman who'd just come aboard.

"No, sir," Pete responded automatically.


	29. Faces

**Chapter Twenty-Nine: Faces.**

 **AN:** as we all know what occurs in this episode, I'm only going to pick the bits that involve my story. I'm trying to concentrate on the most personal aspects of the characters, especially Kathryn and Tom, as they are the ones that have the very different back ground. However, I have a question for the readership.

B'Elanna and ?. I left this open in the last chapter deliberately but forgot to add the final authors note asking for opinions. In Ground Hog day, which could be consistent with this universe, Torres is with Chakotay and Kim married to Kes. However, I've never done a Kim/Torres pairing. Also, in my mind at least, this is the episode where we first see the relationship develop between Paris and Torres in cannon. I've tried to write it so the pairing can go either way.

* * *

"Away team to Voyager." Chakotay waited for the Captain to acknowledge his comm. He didn't relish informing Kathryn that her husband and two other crew were missing in action. Both senior officers expected this outcome when the shuttle hadn't been at the assigned rendezvous coordinates. "We've run into some type of force field. Tuvok informs me, the energy configuration is virtually identical to those used by the Vidiians."

On the Bridge, Kathryn sighed. _Why can't we have just one away mission go as planned?_ She asked internally. _While our_ _resupply mission filled the cargo bays, it seems we're going to have to waste some of those valuable resources to locate three crew members instead of finding a way home. Tom, I hope you're keeping Torres and Durst safe, wherever you are. We've just managed to get over the last hurdle this quadrant threw at us. Now, there is the possibility I might lose you once again. Will this continual fluctuation of my emotions ever end?_

"Mr. Ayala," the Captain managed to withhold the shiver threatening at the thought of what the Vidiians would do to her crew. Turning to the security station and the man temporally standing in for Tuvok, Kathryn ordered, "scan for any alien vessels in the sector."

Nodding, Mike's fingers raced over the console but came up empty.

"Commander," Kathryn returned her attention to the away team, "I want to find out what's behind that barrier, but I don't want you taking any unnecessary risks. We'll be standing by to implement an emergency beam out."

"Acknowledged," Chakotay responded, maintaining a monologue which allowed the Captain to keep up with events occurring in the caves. It wasn't long before the bridge crew heard Harry shout and the First Officer call for immediate transport back to _Voyager_.

"Return the away team directly to the bridge," the Captain used her comm to order the transporter chief. When three silhouettes materialised before her, Kathryn managed to keep her sigh internalised. _At least_ , she silently seethed, _I haven't lost all my senior crew. What would Tom have said, about sending Chakotay, Tuvok and Kim when the Engineering Chief and my only other Commander are missing? Plenty, I bet and not just due to regulations. After our last session in Sandrine's, we both promised to be more careful and thoughtful._

Snorting aloud, the First Officer looked at his Captain and wondered what thoughts passed through her mind. As if she could read his expression, Kathryn answered in a very quiet tone so that only he could hear. "I'm imagining what Tom would say if this second away team had been lost."

Nodding his understanding, Chakotay knew it would have left the Captain in an even worse position than after displacement wave in terms of experienced crew. Neither ship had the resources to continue alone. It had taken Chakotay months to realised, even if _Val Jean_ had survived the Kazon attack on the Caretaker's array, eventually attrition of supplies and personnel would have made combining their crews and scrapping the smaller vessel imperative to their continued survival. Taking his seat next to Kathryn, the Frist Officer expelled a breath and reported the news they'd all expected. It seemed they now had two enemies in this region of space. "Tuvok detected five hominoids entering the caves, suggesting our team wasn't alone down there. With the presence of the barrier we could only assume the Vidiians. Harry was lucky to escape their trap."

"So," Kathryn analysed the information, "it appeared two lay in wait which means the Vidiians are beginning to understand our operating procedures."

"Or they've been informed of them," Tuvok, with his Vulcan hearing, added from his station.

Pursing her lips, the Captain nodded in acknowledgement. She understood the consequences and possible outcome for the three members of her crew if this were the case. "Mr. Tuvok, I want continuous long-range sensor scans for the Tereshkova, anything that might resemble the shuttles ion trail or a Vidiian propulsion system. We need to know if they left the system or are still on the surface, protected by that energy barrier. Mr. Kim, monitor all known Federation, Kazon and Vidiian communication bands. I want to be notified the moment anything is found. Start analysing the information you gathered on that moon and find out why our phases were unable to penetrate the Viddian defences. Commander, you have the bridge. I'll be in my ready room."

Entering her sanctuary, Kathryn Paris sank into her chair. Spinning to the holoimage taking pride of place behind her desk, she touched the picture taken on her wedding day. Both she and Tom looked years younger. Silent tears fell, barely held back while on the bridge.

"After telling me about some of your missions," Katheryn spoke to the Spector of her husband, "the danger you faced, I cannot lose you this way. If anyone can bring Torres and Durst home, it's you. I love you, Tom. You have to come back to me!"

Allowing herself a few moments of desolation, the Captain shook off the melancholy emotions. She needed to concentrate. Allowing a final tear to fall, Kathryn replaced the image on the shelf with a loving pat. Picking up one of the many padds on her desk, she commenced the onerous task of reading daily reports and keeping her ship running in compliance with Starfleet regulations, just has she had all those years they'd been apart while Tom had been assigned to Intelligence.

Smirking, Kathryn's mind could almost hear Tom telling her "somethings will never change."

"If only," she whispered, unable to concentrate on the data scrolling across the screen, "you were saying that over the comm, off my port bow and demanding to come aboard. The second bang… let's not go there Mrs. Paris."

The hours passed slowly as Voyager continued her long-range scans. Nothing. Kim, Tuvok and Chakotay remained on the bridge well past the end of their duty shifts, attempting to make improvements to the sensor array in the fading hope of finding even the smallest clue to follow. Optimism was dwindling, fast, among the general crew. Lt. Carey began to realise just how much time and effort Lt. Torres put in to keep her engines running at peak performance. The division between former Maquis and Fleet widened, especially in Engineering which had never experienced the discord under B'Elanna. There was a feeling of discontent running through the crew. In the mess halls, two distinct groups formed at every meal break. Neelix reported this to the Captain the next day.

"I understand your concerns, Mr. Neelix," Kathryn nodded. Internally she fumed, understanding this schism was her fault. "I'm open to any suggestions."

"It would help," Neelix suggested, "if the crew could see the command team sitting and eating together, like you used to do."

Her only answer, a very Vulcan eyebrow rise. Commanders Tuvok and Chakotay had been putting in as many hours as herself these last three days. No one seemed to have the time for eating.

"You need to set an example for the crew," Neelix seemed to be warming to his topic, "especially in times like this."

"Thank you for reminding me." Although a smile graced her lips, the Captain's teeth were gritted behind them.

"You're welcome," the insufferably cheerful man added. "After all, Commander Paris made me promise that if anything ever happened to him…"

"That will be quite enough, Mr. Neelix," this time Kathryn didn't keep her ire at bay.

"I'd be responsible for making you eat while he was away," Neelix continued, death glare ignored.

For some reason, Kathryn Paris found this funny. A chuckle started, turning into a full belly laugh. _Perhaps_ , she thought, _this news from Mr. Neelix's is just the medicine I need. This is so like my husband, ensuring I ate even though he isn't around. Only Tom could make my dietary intake someone else's problem._

Neelix looked at her as if she'd gone mad.

 _Maybe I have_ , Kathryn finally brought her hilarity, bordering on mania, under control. "Set a table for three, Mr. Neelix. I'm making a new directive, all senior staff will be eating in the mess together, until Mr. Paris can relieve you of your obligation."

"Very good, Captain," the little Talaxian waltzed happily out of the ready room. Before the door shut out his voice completely, Kathryn heard Neelix inform Tuvok and Chakotay of the change. She'd hide in here a little longer. Neither man would be pleased at the new command.

"What's good for the goose," Chakotay smirked teasingly. He'd waited all day to return the favour. "Is good for the gander. I know the genders are all mixed up, but if Tuvok and I have to put up with Neelix's cooking, I'm afraid the Captain must lead by example."

"I believe my husband would say something about turnabout being fair play," Kathryn responded.

The nod Chakotay aimed at her, made the Captain stop and look, truly examine the man and his emotions. Never an easy read, it seemed this event had affected the Frist Officer. Recalling Tom's intelligence on the man, she had to wonder if one member of the currently missing away team might inspire his morose reflections. Chakotay might have slept with Seska in the past, but love in a terrorist organisation was rarely that simple, especially when the woman was found to be a Cardassian spy. Her husband always believed B'Elanna Torres held a fascination for Chakotay that he chose to ignore for many reasons. Then again, Tom also encouraged the close bond established between Torres and Kim while trapped on the Ocampan home world.

On a whim, Kathryn faced the operations station. "Mr. Kim, would you mind joining us in the mess?"

Obviously confused, the young Asian man readily agreed. By a process of osmosis, he'd become a member of the senior team. Both Tom's and B'Elanna's friendship brought Harry into the private and professional sphere of the Captain. She'd given him several projects, which he'd completed on time and with efficiency born of his training and natural ability. Still a little apprehensive, and well aware of the difference in rank, Ensign Kim felt uneasy when surrounded by Commander's Tuvok and Chakotay, as well as the Captain.

"Relax, Harry," Chakotay whispered as they left the confines of the turbolift but before entering the mess, "if the Captain's requested your presence, there will be a reason."

One lunch didn't change the atmosphere on _Voyager_. Yet it got the crew talking about something other than the Komar incident. Five days after the Tereshkova and her team were declared missing, Ensign Kim found the microfractures in the Viddian forcefield on the moon. A plan was made to explore the possibility that Commander Paris, Lt. Torres and crewman Durst had been held on the surface the entire time.

"I don't like our chances," Kathryn confided in her First Officer, "of finding them intact after all this time."

Nodding his agreement, Chakotay recalled their last encounter with the organ steeling race. There was a pervasive sadness surrounding the command team. This rescue mission might prove both had lost far more than they were willing to stake. Glancing over at Ensign Kim, Kathryn Paris wondered how the young man was taking the possibility of his friend's demise.

"Captain," Tuvok voice interrupted her observations. "The away team is ready and waiting Ensign Kim's mark."

"Acknowledged," Kathryn responded, calling for Harry to liaise with the Transporter Chief. A few moments later, Mr. Tuvok, Mr. Ayala and Mr. Andrews disappeared. "Now," the Captain stood and turned to her bridge crew, "we wait."

* * *

 **AN:** so, time to vote. Please let me know if you want this to be consistent with Ground Hog Day, B'Elanna with Chakotay and Harry married to Kes.

Or Kim and Torres.


	30. Faces II

**hapter Thirty: Faces II**

 **AN:** This last month has been so filled with things to do. Finally, my house is sold and I'm moving into an apartment. I've been shopping for new furniture and white goods. Then there's the packing up, selling everything no longer required, not to mention the actual move! I'm finding it difficult to sit and concentrate on writing. However, I re-read over this chapter and didn't like it at all. I hope this is an improvement and it flows better.

* * *

As far as Commander Paris could tell, they'd failed to make the rendezvous with _Voyager_ thirty-six hours ago, which meant his wife would use her starships considerable resources to locate the missing away team the moment they didn't arrive at the meeting point. The mission had been a complete failure, almost from the start. The atmosphere in the underground caves proved compatible with human physiology, which, in hindsight, should have been a warning. Comm's went down within hours of leaving their shuttle on the moon's surface. Unwilling to break the three-man team into smaller units while unable to contact each other, let alone _Voyager_ , Tom ordered them all back to Tereshkova. He needed to rethink how to approach this assignment. Maybe with a good night's sleep and full stomach, one of them would come up with an novel idea.

Initial tricorder readings indicated the magnesite formations they had come to investigate were deep below the surface and out of the shuttles limited transporter range. They wouldn't be easy to extract, even if the team found a passage that lead that far underground. There were also unusual readings Lt. Torres wanted to study in the hope it would improve the dilithum refinery process. On their second attempt to a direct passage to the lower caves, a wall simply disappeared and two Vidiians appeared, incapacitating the away team.

Tom and Pete Durst woke up in a dorm room, filled with half staved, smelly individuals. It didn't take long for a thin faced Talaxian, imprisoned in the work camp for the last four years, to impart the information they needed. It seemed the Vidiians were too weak to mine the Magnesite deposits, keeping slaves to do the intense, back breaking labour instead. Commander Tom Paris walked his team into the oldest trap in the book. It took a considerably more effort to calculate how long they'd been missing.

"There aren't any women in this barrack's," Tom observed after their first day of punishing labour. Sitting with his back to the wall, Durst on his right, they watched the others in the room as they ate the gruel that made even Neelix's concoctions a gourmet meal. "I haven't seen any working in the tunnels."

"What do you think they've done with Lt. Torres?" Durst asked.

Commander Paris switched to Intelligence mode while considering the question. "There are two options. Either they used them for organs or breeding."

"Breeding," Durst spat. He understood where the Commander's mind went. He might not be Maquis, but he'd heard enough stories from the likes of Ken Dalby to understand what captors could do to woman in their power.

"The Vidiian gene pool is susceptible to Phage," Tom sighed, hoping his theory proved incorrect. However, B'Elanna unique genetics might be a powerful tool in their research to find a cure. "The best way to save their species, apart from organ transplant, it to breed with other races in the hope to find natural resistance. That individual could save their entire society."

Pete understood, more than he'd like. If Paris's theory proved correct, they might have been abducted for Torres. That she wasn't a prisoner, being worked to death and staved, seemed to fit all the facts. "I sure hope," Durst swallowed the last of his food while holding his breath. It tasted less vile that way. "The Captain's looking for us right now. No telling what Torres will do to any Vidiian that tries to come near her."

A smile graced Tom's lips for a moment, before disappearing. "B'Elanna can take care of herself. I once saw her take down two Cardassian's. Let's hope Klingon organs aren't a match."

Neither man knew how close they were to the truth until a guard deposited a woman in Starfleet yellow near the Commander's bunk late on their third night in captivity. Earlier the same day Tom witnessed Durst being taken away, presumably to organ processing and for no apparent reason. The crewman knew the Intelligence Officer had a much better chance of survival alone if even half the stories of his escapades were true, so had made the decision to volunteer.

"Tom?" the soft voice woke the Commander immediately. He'd been running over guard schedules, attempting to find a way to contact _Voyager_.

"B'Elanna?" Paris had to look several times to ensure the woman staring at him was his friend. Lt. Torres had lost all her Klingon features, somehow appearing smaller, more vulnerable and frightened. This individual was the anthesis to the person Tom knew. "What have they done to you?" He demanded, hands clasping the woman's shoulders.

"I remember waking up in some kind of laboratory. I was so groggy I couldn't see," B'Elanna recounted. The tone sounded anxious and overwhelmed, so unlike the usually confident, fearless Chief. Remaining silent, Paris gave Torres time to retell her story. "I asked them what they had done to me. One of them said that they had completely extracted my Klingon DNA. Then I was brought here."

Expecting something much more personally violating, and the Klingon half of B'Elanna to fight, Tom didn't know which scenario would be worse for his friend. "You look human," he finally responded. It seemed Torres was waiting for a reply. She was acting like a first-year cadet, not a woman who'd been a Maquis, fighting Cardassian's and keeping a decrepit ship flying against every possibility. Tom's protective response engaged, he knew they needed to escape, and sooner rather than later. B'Elanna didn't look capable of the demanding work required to remain alive in this brutal environment.

"I feel so weak." The sudden comment was accompanied by tears.

 _Tears,_ Tom couldn't believe it. _The B'Elanna I know never cries. But this isn't the woman I've spent hours with on Val Jean. This person is a complete stranger. What have I gotten into? My chance of escape just decreased dramatically. I can't leave Torres to end the way Durst did. We have to get out of here, fast._

Moving slowly, Paris gathered the frightened engineer onto his bunk and into his arms. Speaking softly, soothingly, Tom said, "considering what they've done to you, I'm not surprised. We know the Vidiians medical technology is well beyond the Federations. Whatever technique they used, it's bound to have repercussions."

"What do you think they're doing with my Klingon genes?" B'Elanna asked.

"Trying to find a cure for the Phage," Tom answered easily, his hand stroking her arm as she leant against him heavily. The Torres he knew, didn't like to be touched. The woman in his arms seemed to crave contact. "I doubt the Vidiians have ever encountered a Klingon. Your DNA is unique in this quadrant. I have no doubt they are studying it."

Finally sitting up and pulling out of Tom's warmth, B'Elanna used her arms to retain some of the heat. She could remember everything. The hours they'd spent together in _Val Jean's_ engine room, talking about the wife he'd left behind. The feeling of betrayal after getting lost in the Delta quadrant and finding out Nick Locarno was Commander Thomas Paris. Becoming the Chief Engineer on _Voyager_ , how Tom had fought for her to get the position over the protest of his wife, the Captain. Yet, that life seemed distant and odd. This B'Elanna Torres couldn't imagine being in charge, ordering people around, oozing confidence while issuing directives, making life and death decisions every day and living with the consequences.

"It feels so strange," she needed to talk. This man had always been there for her. If anyone could understand, it would be Tom. "When I was a child, I did everything I could to hide my forehead. Hats, scarves, you name it."

Remaining silent, Tom's hand strayed to her back. Moving it in small circles, as a parent would to comfort a child, he hoped B'Elanna would continue to talk and expunge her emotions. She rarely opened up to anyone. In the six months they'd established a friendship, at least as much of one as Torres was comfortable with on _Val Jean_ , she never mentioned her parents or past as more than a passing comment.

"I grew up on a colony on Kessik IV," she continued. "My mother and I were the only Klingons there. Nobody ever said anything, but we were different and I didn't like that feeling. Then my father left when I was seven. One day he was there and the next he wasn't. I cried myself to sleep every night for months." Suddenly chuckling almost hysterically, B'Elanna glanced at Paris. His expression was open and non-judgemental. "I never told anybody but I decided he left because I look like a Klingon. He forced my mother to send me on a camping trip with my cousins a few years later. By then I was so angry at him, the other kids teased me and I was almost a teenager trying to cope with all the hormones. It didn't go well. I never saw him again."

"Your Mom?" Tom dared to ask, hoping this open, unaffected Torres wouldn't disappear. It gave him so much insight, allowed the Commander to catalogue her new strengths and weaknesses. He'd need to really know this new version of B'Elanna to mount a successful escape.

"I was never Klingon enough for her," the words were spat. Pausing, it took B'Elanna several minutes to continue her confession. Throughout the hours they spoke, Tom remained at her side, gently encouraging her to express her feelings. Finally, a yawn escaped.

"There's no blanket and your freezing," Tom gently laid her down. "My wife will kill me, but Starfleet regulations say to combine body heat in survival situations."

"I'll tell Kate," B'Elanna finally found some humour in the situation. For that instant, she felt like her former self. "When we get back to _Voyager_ , that way she can blame me."

"Better still," Tom teased, "just don't mention it in your report. There are enough rumours I have to dodge about you and my wife. I told Kate the gossip when we took that shuttle ride into the nebula a few weeks back. The crew believed she was leaving me for you!"

 _At least_ , Paris thought as he watched B'Elanna fall asleep, _she found amusement in my joke. Let's hope we don't have to spend another night like this one. I'm not sure how many Torres can survive._

The next day demonstrated how much strength and endurance Lt. Torres gained from her Klingon genes. As they were handed a bowl containing the usual sightly greenish grey gruel before going to the mines, B'Elanna almost threw up at the smell. Snatching the vile smelling mess away, Paris scooped most of it onto his plate. Using some of his water rations, Tom turned the remaining paste into liquid.

"You're going to need something in your stomach to get through the day," he whispered. "Hold your nose, it's the smell that's making you want to vomit. It tastes salty. Try not to think about it."

Nodding, B'Elanna did as instructed. She managed three mouthfuls before pushing the bowl away. All to soon the guard came to take them to their work station. Within an hour, Torres energy was waning. She didn't even have the strength to speak. The look of abject indifference was enough to tell Paris that B'Elanna was spent. He'd be able to hide her for a short time, hopefully long enough not to be missed.

The plan worked, mostly, at least that first day. They'd now been missing ninety hours. If _Voyager_ had any chance of locating them alive, it would have to be soon. _Otherwise_ , Tom considered as he lay on his bunk, spooning Torres to help keep her body heat for a second night, _B'Elanna's not going to make it out alive. She can't keep this up for another day, let alone another night. She's freezing. She managed to eat a little more tonight, but it's not enough to sustain her. The only positive in all this, is I'm getting enough calories to maintain my body mass, which means I have to try to escape tomorrow._

"Tom," Torres whispered. She could feel him thinking, considering, analysing. Being this close for an extended period of time, she understood Paris had almost been on constant Intelligence mode while on _Val Jean_. The only time he relaxed was in the middle of the night, when they talked in engineering.

Acknowledging her call by tucking B'Elanna's head beneath his chin, Tom murmured an incomprehensible sound.

"I've been thinking. When they did this thing to me," B'Elanna spoke softly, in a tone filled with shame. "I think it changed more than just the way I look."

"Yes," Tom agreed easily. He'd been considering the same thoughts.

"You don't understand. I don't mean physically," B'Elanna stated. While she might have been metamorphosed, Commander Tom Paris was still the same man he'd always been. "We've been in worse situations, you know we have. I've never **_felt_** so afraid, of everything and everyone. I feel like a coward. I mean, I didn't even try to help you today when all you're trying to do is keep us alive."

"B'Elanna," Tom wiggled against the wall, allowing the woman to turn onto her back so she could see his expression in the low light. "I'm just a field medic, and not a very good one, but whatever they did to you has seriously depleted your strength, physical and emotional."

Sighing when she remained quiet, Commander Paris explained, "you're so use to relying on your Klingon strength, now it's gone, you have to cope with the frailties of the Human condition. Emotions are the first thing they make you control when your training for an Intelligence mission. Sometimes fear can be a good thing, especially when it keeps you from taking unnecessary risks. Courage doesn't mean that you don't have fear. It means that you've learnt to acknowledge it, then use and overcome it to get the job done. I know that you can find the courage to hold on until we can find a way out of this place."

Nodding, they resettled for sleep. It didn't come that easily for Commander Paris. By the morning, he wondered if he could leave Torres in the barracks. Her eyes slightly sunken and complexion pale, B'Elanna didn't look up to another shift of heavy labour. As an engineer, she'd have the best chance of understanding the guard station and using it to send a comm to _Voyager_. His plans didn't quite work the way he'd hoped. Before handing out the bowls of gruel, a Vidiians stopped and looked at B'Elanna. Unfortunately, they saw the same lack of strength as Commander Paris.

"This one can't work," their captor called to his partner. The guards always patrolled in pairs. Starfleet also required two security officers as standard operating procedure, meaning if one was compromised, the other could call for assistance. It made Tom's job harder, unless he could separate them. Even then, it would take a small miracle to take them both down and survive the attempt.

"I guess it means a shower and hot meal for this one," the second sentry snickered, eyeing the woman lasciviously, before calling for back up.

"Where are you taking me," B'Elanna screeched as the new guards crowed in on each side of her. Tom could see the terror in her eyes. It seemed they both comprehended the fate that awaited a female prisoner before going to organ processing. "Let me go!"

"Torres," Tom's tone cut through her fear. He could only hope his expression communicated hope and courage. "Use your strength for the fight's you can win."

Nodding, she understood. Commander Paris was giving her an order. She needed to look for a way to contact _Voyager_. Maybe, while they let her clean up, she could get to a communications panel. Head held high, she stopped struggling and tried to overcome her panic. Tom had told her to use it, that she wasn't a coward, just completely Human and this was a normal emotion. Taking in a long, shaky breath, Lt. Torres allowed the sentries to lead her out of the barracks.

They'd been walking a little over five minutes when the attack came and she was pushed to the ground. At first B'Elanna though her captors were going to have a little fun with her even in her pathetic state. It took several minutes to understand they were the ones being targeted. Her strength at its limit, both emotionally and physically, Lt. Torres accomplished something she never done before. She fainted.

"Wake up, petaQ," a fully Klingon female hovered over her. When that didn't get the weak human moving, a boot to her shoulder made her cry out in pain and sit up. The two faces of B'Elanna Torres looked at each other, one in wonder, the other with pity.

"Eat!" Klingon B'Elanna demanded.

"What is it?" Lt. Torres enquired. It started a conversation that satisfied either woman and displayed the dichotomy between the Human and Klingon aspects that had once inhabited the same individual. Strangely, neither questioned the process that separated a single entity into two distinctly different people. Both knew of the Vidiians advanced medical ability, just as they knew they needed to complete the task set by Commander Paris. "I need to get to a computer console and I need you to cover for me while I contact _Voyager_."

Laughing harshly, the Klingon stated, "so, you admit you need me."

Prophetically, Torres stated, "your part of me, or at least you were. I know you. I've fought against you my whole life."

Hooting with laughter, the Klingon gloated, "but never won!"

"Neither of us can achieve getting us and Tom out of this prison without the other," infuriated, B'Elanna stood and glared at the seated woman. When the Klingon looked at her with curiosity, Torres realised her conversations with Commander Paris had changed her, or at least lead to posing questions her true nature, or at least the Human elements of it. "A wise man told me fear can cripple, but learning to use it effectively stops you from taking unnecessary risks. We've only been able to achieve that living in the same mind and body. We need to learn get along, without fighting and get the job done. Tom's life depends on it!"

"There is a security console in the Laboratory where they kept me," Klingon B'Elanna reported. The Human part was intelligent and cunning in her own way. However, she lacked discipline and honour, she was weak. "It is the last place they will look for us."

As the two halves worked together, Chakotay and his team found Paris. He'd managed to slip away from his working party, only to be accosted by three Vidiians. Ready to make his escape, thankfully they tuned out to be his shipmates. The away team managed to get through the layers of security at one of the guard stations and uncover what had occurred to Torres. Finally locating the laboratory, they heard the sounds of a skirmish coming from within. A few minutes later, Human Torres called for a beam out after establishing a link with _Voyager_. Unfortunately, Klingon B'Elanna was hit and died on the transport platform.

"How are you doing?" Chakotay entered sickbay, carefully approaching the biobed containing a fully human B'Elanna Torres. It had taken him some time to come to terms with the individual who appeared and acted very different from his friend. He hadn't realised how much she'd meant to him, until she's been replaced by this stranger.

"I'm not sure," Torres answered with a frown. Chakotay's expression was becoming a normal. Even Harry, who wouldn't hurt another's feelings, did a double take when he'd come to visit last night. Luckily Tom had stopped by a few minutes earlier and smoothed over the situation by making a joke of her ridge-less forehead. A hand strayed, feeling the flat skin. "It's been a pretty bizarre experience."

"You could say that," Chakotay smirked, "for more than just you."

"What do you mean?" she questioned, wondering if this was the reason only Commander and Captain Paris had been allow into sick bay over the last twenty-four hours.

"I'm having trouble accepting your," swallowing hard, Chakotay felt he needed to be honest, "changes. It's more than just looks and voice. Your personality, your fire and drive, their missing. Your B'Elanna, but not the B'Elanna I've come to know. You even look softer."

"You read Paris's report," Torres asked, eyes wide. She'd sat with Tom for hours after their return, while the doctor ran his hundred and one test. Of course, the Captain had rushed into sick bay at the earliest possible moment to check on her husband. A part of B'Elanna felt jealously envious while another part wondered if this new individual would be easier to love.

Noticing Torres reactions, Tom attempted to distract her once Kate left. They'd worked on their reports before Paris had been released. It wasn't until B'Elanna was left alone for the night and recorded her personal log that the tears started to fall for all she'd lost. In that moment her decision had been made.

"Yes," Chakotay had been studying her. A frown appeared on his lips, as if he couldn't read this version.

"I'm not glad that it happened, but I am more at peace with myself than I've ever been," B'Elanna commented with a shrug of her shoulders. "This contentment, it's a good feeling. I know I'm incomplete but I'm not sure going back to the old me is a good idea."

"The doc said your considering not going thought with the reintegration," Chakotay frowned. "I'm not sure how…"

"I'll fit in," she finished for him, "being so weak and emotional. Don't deny it Chakotay, I can see it in your eyes. I might have changed, but you haven't. Besides, do you really think I haven't been sitting here the last two nights wondering the same thing?"

When the man before her couldn't look Torres in the eye, she continued. "I've spoken with the Captain about how we can make this work and Commander Paris agreed to help. I'll have to step down from the Chief's job, at least for a while. Lt. Carey's agreed to stand in as I'll only be allowed to work for three or four hours a day until the treatments are over. The Doctor can make the changes to my genome so I can synthesise protein and remain completely Human, but it's a long procedure which means I'm going to be cooped up in here two days a week for the next month."

"Can you live with that?" Chakotay asked.

In his heart, he knew he couldn't. He'd always has a soft spot for the fiery half Klingon. The day the Starfleet drop out boarded his ship, she felt like the younger sister he'd never had. As B'Elanna learnt to trust him, to open up, those feelings had grown but Seska was in his bed by then. Then Locarno came onboard and it seemed the rogue would steal Torres heart. Everyone knew of the hours they spent together in Engineering. Sighing, the Frist Officer only understood after Commander Paris unveiled his true identity, and marriage to Captain Paris. B'Elanna needed someone safe to share her hopes with, and that person had been the only married man on both _Val Jean_ and _Voyager_. It seemed this event changed her, in every aspect. She relied on Tom now, more than ever, to help her through this transformation.

"Not right now," B'Elanna smirked, watching the play of emotions across Chakotay's face. She knew, in her current form, she didn't have the same feeling for this man. He described himself as gentle, yet he was far from that. As a leader of the Maquis, he needed to be tough, ruthless and dedicated. The Klingon part of her had been attracted to those qualities, but this completely Human version of B'Elanna Torres needed a very different person to support and love her. "I don't feel like me. I guess I've had someone else living inside of me for so long, it's going to take time learning to be this softer, gentler B'Elanna Torres. I came to admire a lot of things about her. Her strength, her bravery, but don't I want to spend the rest of my life fighting with her."

Nodding, Chakotay kissed B'Elanna on the crown. "Get some sleep. You might feel differently in the morning."

"Chakotay," Torres waited until he reached the door and turned to look at her. "It's one or the other. If I decide to remain human, the Doctor can't reintegrate my Klingon DNA. If I can't synthesis protein, it's just a matter of time."

"I guess," he gave her a sad smile, "you have a decision to make."

 _I've made it_ , B'Elanna watched as he left, _it's just that you don't like it. I'm sorry, Chakotay, but I can't be what you want me to be. I wait years for you to notice me and it took removing my Klingon genes for you realise what you've lost. I have to do this for me. I can learn to be a great Chief Engineer, but I can't be this content if I take her back._

* * *

 **AN:** I know this had really become non-cannon. However, if I am to have B'Elanna and Harry as a couple, I need to change the dynamics. Let me know if you don't like this. There is still the possibility of having some of B'Elanna Klingoness returned, I just have to make my muse work on it!


	31. Moving On

**Thirty-One: Moving On.**

 **AN:** Just a note, I've revamped the last chapter as I didn't think it flowed well enough. We're going to be glancing over the rest of season one and into season two. It might take a couple of chapters as I do a little character study. I hope you enjoy.

* * *

"Are you sure?" Kathryn looked into the eyes of her very confused Chief Engineer. Lt. B'Elanna Torres requested this meeting immediately after being discharged from sick bay. She now sat in the Captain's ready room, across the table from the only female friend she'd cultivated since arriving on _Voyager_. "I want you to be absolutely certain you can live the rest of your life with this decision before you start treatment."

"No," B'Elanna sighed heavily. It was a sound the Captain wasn't used to hearing from the normally confident individual. This completely Human version of Lt. Torres would take a while to get used to. Standing abruptly and facing away from the Captain, the young woman's voice became deathly quiet. "I'm not sure about anything right now." In a moment of complete conviction, the Engineer turned, her eyes pleading with Kathryn to understand. "I know two things. When Klingon B'Elanna and I worked together to find a security console in that Vidiian hellhole, I wasn't afraid anymore. I knew what I had to do and did it. Your husband told me courage is learning to cope with your fear, that all humans feel moments of apprehension and panic, but it's how you use it that matters. I know I can harness that emotion, develop it, control it to continue on as the Chief Engineer."

"That," Kathryn smiled, her grey eyes watching, searching, analysing, "sounds like Tom, and I don't have a doubt about continuing your position on this ship, Lieutenant."

"If it hadn't been for Commander Paris," pausing, B'Elanna swallowed audibly. "Let's just say, things would have turned out differently."

"What's your second point, B'Elanna," the Captain coxed the conversation back to their original subject.

"I still have all the memories of my life before, this," she pointed to her smooth forehead. "I'm still the same person, have the knowledge of _Voyager's_ engines, Starfleet rules and regulations, I remember all the protocols. My style of command might change and that may disconcert some people, but it doesn't mean I can't do my job."

"Tom and Harry, they understand why I want to stay this way. They can see how settled I am within myself," B'Elanna felt frustrated. Slumping into the chair opposite the Captain, Kathryn didn't show any surprise at this new and very altered behaviour. Lt. Torres would never choose to sit, before her transformation.

"But Chakotay doesn't?" Now, Captain Paris felt she was getting to the real point of this discussion. It seemed the three most important men in B'Elanna life, up to this point, had differing opinions on how she should act. When Lt. Torres nodded, Kathryn found her lips curing into a smile. "You know, many of my personal decisions, the hardest ones, I talk over with the person I'm closest too, my husband. It's natural, for a human, especially a human woman to want advice, or at least believe she's been heard, given the chance to explain her thought process. Oh, I don't always want answers and never solutions. I need my husband to listen to me, correct any flawed assumptions, ensure that my thinking is sound. Believe me, Tom would never be so presumptuous as to make my decision for me. It's part of why I love that man so much."

"If the Commander hadn't been married…." Blushing with embarrassment, B'Elanna tried to apologise. Another behaviour the crew would have to learn to accept.

"I know what you mean," Kathryn let out a chuckle. Secure in her relationship with Tom, even though they'd been through some rough spots recently, Kate Paris understood. B'Elanna Torres needed the emotional stability of an intimate friend. Right now, neither Harry nor Chakotay could provide what she required. _Whereas Tom has this incredible emotional sensitivity_ , the Captain sighed internally. "It's the reason I snapped him up the moment he reached his majority according to the Federation. Although, my husband would say he'd already decided to make an honest woman of me."

"I just wish Chakotay was more supportive of my decision," B'Elanna complained. "He's the closest friend I have, almost like a father. But this is my choice to make. Harry and Tom, they came into sickbay, sat at my side and joked, just like always. They listened to me talk. I think I surprised Harry. He's still trying to get over changes and the fact they're going to be permanent, but not once did he try and convince me to change my mind."

"Give the Commander time, B'Elanna," Kathryn cautioned. With Tom's intelligence while on the Maquis ship, ideas were starting to form. "Chakotay is the person who's known you the longest. It might take him sometime to realise he hasn't lost his friend, just that the relationship between you is changing, transforming."

"You know," Torres spoke slowly after several minutes of silence. She'd considered the Captains words carefully, something she could now do without the immediate flush of anger tainting her thoughts and causing intense reactions. "I once thought I loved Chakotay, that if I could only get him to see me, he could feel the same way."

"But you don't now?" Kathryn asked, intrigued. This conversation went a long way to understanding this version of Lt. Torres thought patterns and personality.

"I'm not sure what to think anymore," B'Elanna sighed and slumped into her seat once again. "When he came into Sick Bay, well, I could see my decision didn't sit well with him. He wants the old Torres back and I know I can't do that and still retain the serenity I've found."

"You have time to figure it out," Kathryn smirked, "with everyone on board. Until then, my door is always open, B'Elanna. I hope you'll still consider me a friend and confident. There is also Kes. She's an amazing young woman. I suggest you get to know her. Having female friends, it's important, to a human female."

"Are we still on for Sandrine's tonight?" the Engineer asked, a pleading expression shining from the depths of her now very expressive brown eyes.

"I wouldn't miss it," Kathryn's eyes twinkled. "I'm still just Mrs. Kate Paris off duty, B'Elanna. That door is always open as well."

Nodding, Lt. Torres stood and exited the room, her head reeling with these new thoughts and ideas. Tomorrow morning at six hundred, she would report to sick bay for the first of her treatments. Until then, perhaps she'd find Kes and see if the Ocampa had time for a cup of raktajino and a chat. If Kate thought it was a good idea to cultivate the friendship, then B'Elanna intended to make the effort, no matter how anxious it made her.

While the initial meeting went well, unfortunately, other events prevented Kes continuing their fledgling friendship. A doctor calling himself Jetrel came aboard and diagnosed Neelix with Nutremia, tying up the young Ocampa as she attempted to help her partner through the emotional event. While B'Elanna underwent the first of four treatments, she witnessed the Talaxian's struggle to forgive the man responsible for destroying his home world and family. Throughout the entire episode, Kes was never far from Neelix, leaving B'Elanna feeling very alone and unsupported as the quiet nurse concentrated her efforts on her partner in life.

In many ways, Neelix's battle to find forgiveness reminded Torres of her childhood and B'Elanna wondered if she was making the correct decision to remain completely Human. Perhaps if she could absolve her parents of her horrible childhood, then accepting the Klingon half would be easier. Yet, it was the thought of continuing that very dichotomy that initiated the feelings of inadequacy. Her emotional upbringing scared her in ways she really didn't understand, turning B'Elanna Torres into the untrusting, angry adult.

Watching Neelix forgive the dying Jetrel became a cathartic moment as the second treatments ended. Five days later, as her third therapy commenced, Kes came as sat by B'Elanna's biobed. The conversation was stilted at first. As the hours passed and Lt. Torres began to see qualities she'd missed in the young Ocampa previously, a friendship formed. It taught B'Elanna more about herself than she realised.

"Have I always been so blind," a tearful Torres asked the empath.

"Not blind," Kes answered in a soft tone. "Neelix was so angry at Jetrel, he couldn't see the emotion was generated by his own failings, nor did he recognise Jetrel's need for absolution."

"Your saying," B'Elanna stated, wonderment in her tone, "that my Klingon responses clouded my judgement?"

"No," Kes smiled, "they made you perceive people and their reaction to you differently."

Nodding, B'Elanna thought about the crew and how they'd received her decision to remain completely Human over the last fortnight. The Maquis, those who knew her best often looked with suspicion, remaining distant. That group distrusted anything new. The Fleeters just accepted this as another Delta quadrant curio. She'd felt more insecure, influenced by other people's looks and expressions, until once again Commander Paris came to her aid.

"Hey, Torres," he'd joked as they walked together from the turbo lift to engineering after her second treatment. Tom felt her uncertainty and trepidation as B'Elanna faced her first shift since becoming Human. "Head high, Lieutenant. You're in charge down here. Never forget it and never show them your apprehension."

The Commander stopped as the doors opened, observing. It gave Lt. Torres the courage to stride into Engineering and call for Lt. Carey to give his report. While there might have been a few odd looks, by the end of her four hours, few would question B'Elanna's position, although they were happy with the softer attitude.

Neelix recovered quickly, recommencing his duty in the mess. Unfortunately, on her first full shift in Engineering as the Chief, B'Elanna had to cope with failing gel packs. Klingon B'Elanna might have enjoyed the increased heat required to eliminate the infection, however Human B'Elanna shared the feeling of every other crewmember, except Tuvok. The Vulcan still managed to save young Ral Gerron while the rest of the crew sweltered.

"Senior Officers to the briefing room," the Captain's voice came over the comm as a very long shift ended.

Sighing internally, a device Lt. Torres learnt to use in the last three weeks to cope with her very human feelings of frustrations and fatigue, she headed for deck one. Stomach grumbling, B'Elanna had also realised she needed to cope with her body's biological needs. The loss of her Klingon genes meant she had to pay more attention to the mundane nuances like eating regular meals and getting enough sleep.

Entering the conference room, Tom sat to one side of the Captain at the head of the table, leaving the other for Chakotay. Harry smiled, offering the empty chair between himself and Commander Paris. Tuvok's bedraggled appearance directly from sick bay proved enough of a distraction for everyone but Ensign Kim to hear Lt. Torres digestive system protest that it was well past dinner time.

"Now that we're all here," Kathryn stood and paced to the view screen, "I can tell you Commander Paris has managed to locate a socio-political map of this sector."

"May I enquire how Commander Paris came across such information?" Tuvok asked, his non-singed eyebrow rising.

"Somethings are better left to the imagination," Kathryn smiled, although her grey eyes gave away the unease she felt. "Suffice to say, we are currently not in Vidiian nor Kazon space." Pulling up a file, it displayed several colour coded areas, pointing our those controlled by species that caused _Voyager_ issues in the past.

"As I understand," Tom took over, "we're in an unclaimed pocket ten light years in diameter."

"So," Harry chimed in with a grin, "it should be clear sailing for the next few weeks."

"Actually," the Captain burst his bubble, "we entered about five light years ago, just after our last encounter with the Vidiians. Unfortunately, the other side is controlled by Kazon-Ogla. Within a month, we will be back in Nistrum territory. Directly in our path back to the Alpha quadrant is a disputed area between them and the Vidiians extending into the next sector."

"What you're saying," Chakotay spoke up, "is we haven't seen the last of Maj's Jabbin or Cullah."

"I'm glad you mentioned Cullah, Commander," Captain Paris exchanged a concerned glance with her husband. "We've never actually entered Nistrum territory. It seems that sect is attempting to annex both Hakil and Ogla space."

"I gather you're implying," Chakotay almost spat, "Seska is attempting to start a civil war within the Kazon sects."

"That would fit the Cardassian's philosophy," Tuvok added in his infuriating monotone. "We know the Kazon are a patriarchal society. As a woman, Seska's only control would be manipulative in nature, most likely as the sexual partner. Therefore, she would need to attract the attentions of the highest-ranking male in order to exert her ideology within the Kazon. I believe we will encounter her again, at the side of Maj Cullah. Should her alliance there fail, she will attempt the same strategy with the Kazon-Relora, who are reported to be the second most powerful sect."

"I agree," Kathryn sighed, taking her seat once again. "As we're only on the edge of Nistrum territory, I believe we haven't seen the last of Seska or Cullah yet. Still, as Commander Paris would say, it's better the devil you know. I want ideas on how to combat our known foes."

"B'Elanna," Tom interrupted before his wife could dismiss them. "You've been very quiet. Any ideas?"

"In the Maquis, we were usually a single ship, trying to annoy the Cardassian's into giving up the Federation settled planets in the DMZ. We knew we could never win the war. Seska knows that," Torres started, unsure but gathering courage under the reassuring expression of both Commander and Captain Paris. "We were out gunned, our manoeuvred and out maned."

"Sounds like a good synopsis of our current situation," Tom joked.

"Exactly," B'Elanna jumped to her feet, needing to move. "We can't win against the overwhelming numbers, even if they are technologically inferior. Tom, Chakotay, we know Seska, her weaknesses. She didn't have enough engineering knowledge to help the Nistrum construct a food replicator without destroying one of their ships. We learnt from that event that they skimp on materials, that they don't listen to women, that their technology has been stolen, not developed. Neelix told us the different sects control different resources, further decreasing research."

"I see where you're going with this," Chakotay smirked. "Low tech problems sometime need low tech solutions."

"Yes," Torres agreed, "and no. The Kazon know our general direction, towards the Alpha quadrant. They have enough ships to lay in wait. _Voyager_ is only one ship. Maybe we need to think about the way we get home, the direction we take. This peace of the last month can't last much longer, yet we've travelled further than in the previous three, using fewer resources. Valarie Canmar from Stella Cartography wondered why we didn't go via the Gamma quadrant and attempt to locate the wormhole that would deposit us near DS9. The distance was about the same."

"I considered that route," Captain Paris's hand went to her chin as she reconsidered every decision made up until this point. "There were just too many unknowns. If we'd had the spatial co-ordinates of the worm hole…"

"We've come too far to turn back now," Harry jumped in.

"Agreed," Kathryn sighed.

"But," Tom caught on to B'Elanna's idea, "that doesn't mean we have to be so predictable. Starfleet ideology works in known space. At the academy, they still tell tales of Captain Kirk and his cavalier attitude to explore, seek and boldly go where no one has gone before. Maybe we need to take a leaf out of his book."

"Or the Maquis," Chakotay added with a smirk.

"Alright," the Captain examined the faces of her senior staff, "I want reports on my desk by fifteen hundred tomorrow afternoon with all your ideas. Let's use this reprieve to our advantage. Dismissed."


	32. 37 and Beyond

**Thirty-Two: 37 and Beyond.**

 **AN:** I wanted to give a sense of how hard it would be to give up planet side life, especially in a welcoming community.

"I didn't say I was going to," Harry stated vehemently.

Looking around the mess, it seemed everyone was talking about the same topic. Yesterday, the entire crew took turns touring the towns and cities on this planet. Their population might be limited and their ability for space travel non-existent but the level of technology rivalled the late 20thcentury Earth. They were on the edge of great breakthroughs. Life on Baylis was an attractive prospect. The entire crew of _Voyager_ would choose their fate in a little over twenty-four hours. Either remain on this world, becoming a part of the community or continue their journey back to Earth.

"I just said I could understand why some of the crew might want to," Ensign Kim explained, leaning closer to his companion and whispering. "The people here remind me of home. I haven't felt like that since I left Earth."

Somewhat taken back, B'Elanna leant toward her friend, placing her chin on her folded hands to carefully consider his words. "I've heard stories, Harry, about how hard you worked, how many years you spent studying to get into Starfleet. You've always wanted a life in space, the challenge, the responsibility and ultimately the prestige."

"I know you noticed the ethnic diversity here," Ensign Kim tried a slightly different tact. "These people are accepting, kind, willing to welcome anyone who wants to better their society. They are even willing to accept Chell!"

B'Elanna greeted the flat joke with an unimpressed expression.

" _Voyager's_ level of technology and the crew's skills, it wouldn't be long before we were making advances and starting to explore the space around this world," Harry continued. "Thanks to Tom, we know it safe and Captain Paris has agreed to transfer data on this system and the immediate sector."

"For how long?" Torres demanded. "How long would this area of space be safe? Come Starfleet, either the Kazon or Vidiian's will eventually stumble on this world. Then what happens then? I'll tell you, either everyone is harvested for organs, or the Kazon will interrogate _Voyager's_ crew for information and kill the rest."

"If enough of us stayed, we could help them protect themselves," Harry argued. "Look, I'm not saying I've made up my mind, but, my whole life on a starship, day after day, with no end in sight? That's not exactly what I signed up for. I'm faced with the same dilemma as everyone here. I want the same things: to get married, have kids, see them grow. Can you truthfully say that's going to occur if we stay of _Voyager_?"

Shaking her head, B'Elanna recalled several overheard conversations in engineering. "You're not the first person I've heard talk like this. A lot of people are thinking about staying, starting a real life, a career and family."

"What about you? Don't you have some of those feelings?" Harry demanded, watching his friends face. It seemed to give away her emotions the more he came to understand this human version of Torres.

"I'd be lying," B'Elanna admitted, "if I said I didn't. At least it would be a new start, with people who didn't know the old B'Elanna, didn't make judgements. I just want to be accepted, Harry."

"That's not a reason to make such an important decision," Harry argued, before injecting some humour. "Besides, that's the first time you've ever called me Harry **_and_** we need you to much here on _Voyager_."

"So," B'Elanna reacted to the joke with a smile, "you're admitting you want me to stay."

"Yes," Kim became very still, as if trying to communicate something he couldn't quite articulate. "I don't want to lose one of my best friends. We've been through so much together, B'Elanna."

"I guess we're both staying then?" she asked, somewhat apprehensive. A fluttering Torres never experience took up residence in the region of her single stomach. It wasn't exactly unpleasant but not enjoyable either.

"What," Tom joined them before Harry could formulate an answer, "are you to talking about? Ah, don't tell me, you want to stay on this magnificent planet, build a house and raise a dozen kids."

"No," B'Elanna shook her head, unable to account for the sudden disappointment when her intimate moment with Harry ended. Perhaps for the first time, she felt Commander Paris casual humour misplaced.

"I'm trying to convince her to stay," Harry chimed in, as if their conversation hadn't been interrupted. "B'Elanna has agreed if I do."

"Well," Tom stuck a fork into his, whatever it was, and acted very unconcerned. "I'm glad you're in agreement. I have this idea I wanted you two to look over. Kind of icing on the cake. Before you ask, old Earth saying. I think it might just convince you that _Voyager's_ the better option, if there was any chance you might be considering settling on Baylis."

Handing them a PADD, the pair crowded around the single device. Within a few seconds both engineers were obsessed with the data. Commander Paris hoped his little side project might tip the balance. Speaking with his wife about their chances of keeping enough qualified crew to fly the ship, they'd concluded it might be a close call. Both Captain and Commander had their own, very personal reason for wanting to continue their journey and return to Earth as quickly as possible.

"You want to try to break the warp ten barrier?" Torres demanded, looking up from the calculations. She couldn't discern any immediate issue with Paris's theory. Putting it into practice, well that was the engineer's job.

"In a shuttle?" Kim echoed, folding his hands as if in prayer. As expected, the young Ensign jumped at the chance, however small, of shortening their journey.

"I guess," Tom sighted his wife entering the mess and signalled her to join them, "you think it's theoretically possible."

"Are you trying to convince Harry and B'Elanna to stay," the Captain shook her head as she passed the group on her way to the servery. The Engineers ignored the food on their plates, which didn't look all that appetising, in favour of the electronic device in their hands.

"Yes," Tom's sparklingly blue eyes demonstrated his humour, "and don't get this." He threw his fork onto the untouched plate while his expression requested she join them before turning completely serious. "How many?" the Commander asked, in a soft, worried tone.

"I've had five official requests and more than a dozen inquiries," Kathryn stated, "so far. Mostly those in relationships or feeling as if they don't fit in."

"I'll get you a coffee," Tom rose, kissing his wife on the crown of her head without thinking and proceeded to the replicators. Although he felt her eyes burning into his back, Commander Paris ignored his spouse. Taking his time, Tom listened to snippets of conversation as he made his way through the room.

A day later the entire crew knew who and how many chose to remain on Baylis. Nineteen individuals, seven prior Maquis who had little love of Starfleet, six originating on agricultural colony worlds with no reason to return to the Alpha quadrant. The other twelve suddenly declared themselves in committed relationships, several previously unknown. One lieutenant and two ensigns were not irreplaceable. In fact, the loss gave Captain Paris the latitude for promotions in the future. Further scans proved the Bori left countermeasures to protect their planet which worked in the indigenous populations favour. These measures went further than methods which required _Voyager_ to land, made the transporter's inoperable and population centres undetectable. With the spatial data on their surrounding sector transferred into Baylis's computer banks, the inhabitants stood a good chance of protecting themselves against even the Vidiian's.

Cargo holds full of organics and metal, the Senior Staff gathered to wish the outgoing crew well in their new life and say goodbye to the 37's. Before returning to her vessel, Kathryn noticed a group of young people milling close to the landing hatch. John Evensville, the Baylis spokesperson cleared his throat, watching the scene with some trepidation as he gained Captain Paris's attention.

"During your tour of our towns," he explained, his eyes flicking to the youthful crowd, "many of your crew spoke about their adventures through the stars. Each of these individuals have requested you consider them as perspective replacements."

"They want to join our crew?" the Captain asked, ensuring she understood.

"We understand our technology is not as advanced," John stated a little mournfully. "We were discerning in presenting only those who were capable of learning, have completed their education and undergone their military service."

"Were there others," Tom spoke, "who wanted to join _Voyager_?"

"Many of our young people," John smiled sadly, "found the concept of adventure and excitement travelling through space enticing. They wish to learn more of the universe and hope, one day, to see Earth with their own eyes."

"I understand," Kathryn felt conflicted. In all good conscious, she couldn't deny the request, when she'd offered the same to the 37's. They came from an earlier time in Earth's history, had much to more learn and would prove a hinderance rather than help initially. Looking at the eager, young faces, she felt Tom's hand on her shoulder. He was making a case for them, for replacing the crew they had lost with eager recurits. "Perhaps we can orbit Baylis for a few days, allowing your people a taste of shipboard life. Starfleet rules and regulations aren't for everyone."

"A good compromise," John agreed.

Turning to the group, Captain Kathryn Paris introduced herself before addressing them as if new cadets on their first day at the Academy. "I won't lie to you, life on _Voyager_ is dangerous but exciting, filled with new scientific discoveries and the mundane duties required to keep a ship of this size and complexity running. In the next few days, you will be tested for your aptitude to integrate our level of technology, ability to follow procedures and protocols, and finally assessed for your capacity to work under stressful conditions. I hope each and every one of you is still willing to join our journey by the time we break orbit."

"Thank you, Captain. You and your crew are welcome to return at any time and join us if your grow weary of the journey," John stated after arrangements had been made to accommodate _Voyager's_ new recruits.

"I'm afraid," Kathryn smiled sadly, "once we recommence our voyage, that will be impossible. However, we'll let Starfleet know about your colony. I'm sure a lot of people on Earth will be happy to know the fate of the 37's."

Four days after lifting off, one of their new cadets decided to return to Baylis before _Voyager_ broke orbit. Commander's Paris and Tuvok were given responsibility over education and training their recruits. The twenty-one trainees were eager to learn and happy to be paired with a Starfleet crewman. Taking to their studies with zeal, the homesickness took a little longer to become apparent.

"Well, this is a first," Tom dropped onto the lounge, exhausted from his shift on the bridge, followed by several hours on the holodeck teaching the new recruits to fly shuttles. "You're home before me!"

"Chakotay's requested two days leave," Kathryn came to sit beside her husband, snuggling into his open arms. "Which means Tuvok will have to fill in as my First Officer."

"You trying to kill me, Kate," Tom asked. "Don't answer that. I believe we had this conversation the day I came aboard."

"While you might technically be my fourth bridge officer," she returned, one leg straying across her husband's lap, "Tuvok is aware of your true rank. If something happened to me…"

"Something is about to happen to you," as tired as he felt, Tom Paris picked up his wife and headed toward their bedroom. Not even in his worst nightmare, could he conceive of his wife's demise and he defiantly didn't want to talk about the concept, even theoretically.

A week later _Voyager_ and her crew knew they'd entered into Kazon-Ogla territory when Chakotay's shuttle was attacked while he was conducting a ceremony called the Pakra. Two Baylis recruits on the bridge could be heard taking sharp, indrawn breaths when they beamed aboard the Kazon wreckage for B'Elanna and her team to analyse. They stood up well as the Captain ordered the helm to follow the Kazon ion trail and be prepared for battle stations.

As if their conversation had been prophetic, Captain Paris turned to her husband and stated, "I'm taking Tuvok on the away team. You have the bridge, Mr. Paris."

"Aye, Captain," he pivoted in his chair and stood. Everyone on the bridge noticed the look that passed between husband and wife. It seemed Neelix's intelligence on the Ogla training base had infused the crew via the usual grape vine. In situations like this, rumour ran rife. "Be careful Kate." The whispered comment was heard by the replacement helmsman but, no doubt, would be in circulation before the transporter bean shimmered into existence and deposited the away team on the moon's surface.

"I've got a Kazon raider approaching at bearing two eight eight mark nine," Harry reported less than ten minutes later.

"Seems the Ogla are a little protective of this planet," Tom smirked, standing and straightening his jacket. "Open a channel please, Ensign." Waiting for the face of Maje Razik to appear, Paris's demeanour changed. "I'm Commander Thomas Paris of the Starship _Voyager_."

"Jal Razik, First Maje of the Kazon-Ogla," the man snarled. "I will speak to your captain."

"I know who you are," Tom stated easily. Understanding the male dominated culture and posturing, Paris expected little else. Playing to the man's preconceived ideas, the Commander responded, "Captain Paris, my wife, is currently indisposed, so you can speak to me."

Growling at a concept he didn't understand, Razik had the graced to treat Tom as an equal. "You are trespassing in Ogla space."

In a sudden turn of character, Tom became Commander Paris. The expressions of the crew on the bridge transformed, having never seen this side of the Intelligence Officer. "I'm not going argue with you Razik, but you should listen to what I have to say. You and I have the same problem." The consummate officer stated in a hard tone, his blue eyes flinty. "And it has nothing to do with the away team we both know is at your training facility. Don't look so surprised, Maje. I want Commander Chakotay and my people on that moon returned and then we can sit down and discuss Maje Cullah's new advisor."

Glaring, Razik took several moments to consider this new information. Neelix, seated in the First Officer's chair, stood, as if to join in the conversation. He was summarily ordered by Commander Paris to leave well enough alone with a quelling expression.

"What do you know of this advisor?" Razik demanded, obviously intrigued.

"Once my people are safely back on _Voyager_ ," Tom negotiated, "you and I will meet, alone, at the co-ordinates I'm sending you." Returning to his seat, the Commander typed in a series of numbers. "I believe we can be of mutual aid to each other."

A few seconds later, the Maje looked down to the console before him. A feral smile covering his face. "Agreed."

The rescue didn't quite turn out the way they planned. Chakotay, attempting to allow Kar to earn his Ogla name, was fatally wounded. The doctor worked for hours, attempting to stabilise the First Officer. At least he'd been prewarned and expected the code White resuscitation. In the meantime, Commander Paris took a shuttle and met Maje Razik in an isolated location on the training moon.

"My ready room now, Commander," the Captain ordered the moment Tom arrived back on Voyager. Seated in her chair, unimpressed expression on her features, Kathryn Paris demanded, "report, Mr. Paris."

At which point Tom knew his wife was both angry and unimpressed with his behaviour. The colourful bruises lacing his face, along with the ones she couldn't see, would require a trip to sick bay. Yet, it had been a small price to pay. He'd passed Razik's initiation test and now had the Maje's complete confidence in his abilities and allegiance.

"Seska is Maje Culluh's lover and acting as his advisor in all things _Voyager_ ," the Commander stated. "They have attempted to incorporate other Federation technology without success. Her ultimate aim seems to be our destruction."

"A woman scorned," Kathryn sighed. One look at her husband demeanour and the Captain knew there was more. "I'm not going to like it, am I?"

"We have a spy on board," Tom said, "or at least someone who's working with Seska and sending information to the Kazon. The question is, what are we going to do about it? How long before the spy transmits vital data and the Nistrum are successful in building a replicator or transporter?"

A shiver passed down the Captain's spine. With either device, it would give the Nistrum the advantage over the other sects. "I believe the senior staff need to know," Kathryn sighed. "I'll schedule a meeting…"

"No," Tom shook his head. "I'm informing my Captain of a complication. This is the sole responsibility of my department, Kate. Seska is my problem. I can't leave her in this quadrant, wreaking havoc on innocent populations in her quest to build a new Cardsassian Empire."

"A department of one," Kathryn reminded. Scrutinising the man before her, she added, "what can a individual do, against the Kazon? I'm not going to like your solution, am I?"

"No." In that instant, Commander Paris turning into Tom. "Come with me to holodeck one, Kate. I'm not sure how much longer we're going to have together and I want to make the most of the time we have."

"Just promise me you'll come back," Mrs. Paris requested, a sorrowful expression clouding her eyes.

"I've never promised what I can't deliver, Kate," Tom answered, holding out his hand. Taking it, Kate Paris allowed her husband to lead her to the holodeck and their private copy of Sandrine's.


	33. So Little Time

**Thirty-Three: So Little Time.**

 **AN:** I'm sorry if I gave the impression I killed Chakotay off. In the series, Chakotay was going to allow Kar to kill him to earn his Ogla name. However, Kar turned on Maje Razik and killed him instead. This did not occur in my version. Chakotay was killed, transported to sick bay and saved by the Doctor. It has been mentioned several times (very thick plot armour!) that medical techniques in the 24thcentury can save someone up to two minutes post death, if their neurological energy has not dissipated. Not sure of the science behind this!

* * *

"What if it had been me?" Snuggled in her husband's arms while sitting on the couch under the window, Kate Paris needed to talk about the events of the last few days. _Voyager_ passed through a swam of tiny beings, which turned out to be females of an unknown species believing the ship might be their mate. Kes underwent the Elogium, false as it turned out. However, she'd asked Harry Kim to father her child, not Neelix. That lead to a multitude of problems that were only just becoming apparent to the rest of the crew.

Understanding his partner of eleven years and where her thoughts tended in such a morose mood, Tom smiled before kissing the top of her head. This event, combined with the individuals deciding to start lives and families on Baylis had their child close to his heart and on his mind. "What, your biological urge taking over and then you asking Ensign Kim to father your baby?"

Sitting forward and pulling out of the embrace, the Captain emerged. Her look was enough to state _that's not what I meant and you know it!_

"Harry has enough trouble seeing you as a person out of uniform," Tom continued, smirking. "I think our green Operations Officer would faint if the thought so much as crossed your mind. As for your husband, he's never been the jealous type but I think he'd object to the whole idea."

"Can you ever be reasonable!" Kathryn threw up her hands.

Mock sighing, Tom reached for Kate's hand and pulled her back onto his lap. "You keep asking that question, wife, and getting the same answer for as long as you've known me. Occasionally."

"Then let this be one of those times, Tom!" she stated, slightly exasperated. Not dropping the subject informed her husband just how much Kathryn needed to talk. Forcing Tom to let her go, she paced the living room. "What if I'd defied the doctor's orders and brought our son with me," grey eyes boarded into the man, lackadaisical pose not hiding his attention, which was focused on the agitated woman. "He was nineteen weeks, Tom, when I had him put into stasis. With the time it took us to get to DS9 and the Caretaker transporting _Voyager_ into the Delta quadrant, he'd be almost a year old now. How would we cope with a baby and command? How could we keep him safe? Not to mention child care, schooling and the thousand other resources required to rear a child. He wouldn't see the sun for weeks at a time, feel the grass under his feet, except on the holodeck."

"You thought about it?" Paris asked the question, even though he knew the answer.

"More than once," Kathryn turned, her eyes asking for acceptance and understanding.

Bolting up, Tom took her in his arms. This embrace was cathartic for both of them. "You can't keep beating yourself up, Kate. You did what you thought was best under difficult circumstances. What if _Val Jean_ had been lost but not _Voyager_? Would you have continued with the pregnancy without me?"

"Yes," the word issued as a hiss. "I would have wanted a little piece of you. Something to hold onto, even if it cost my career."

"I would have done the same, if it were me living on Earth without you," Tom stated easily. The catch in his voice told Kathryn he'd considered every aspect of this dilemma. "If there was any chance of retaining even a tiny amount of my wife, a reminder of moment we've spent together, I would have taken it, Kate. You know I've wanted a family for a while. I would have done it with without you, if I really had to. It wouldn't be ideal; a child needs his mother and father."

Pushing her away, Tom really looked at the woman. The Delta quadrant had aged Kathryn Paris, made her harder, even though he'd worked to reduce her burden and broaden her circle of intimate acquaintances. Any hope of children was lost with _Voyager_ in constant danger, the weight of command and a husband who understood the constraints only too well. "We need to put all our energy into finding a way home."

Sighing, Kathryn moved back into her husband's warmth. "I guess that's what I'm afraid of," she confessed. "By the time we get home, our son will be a man, seeing Elizabeth and Garric as his parents. It all became so clear, when Kes came to me, asking my opinion about going thought with the Elogium. I hadn't the slightest idea she was going to ask Harry to be the father."

"I think it's going to cause issues with B'Elanna," Tom stated.

"You really think she's developing feelings for Ensign Kim?" Kathryn asked.

"I'm not sure either of them realises it yet," Tom smiled. "I first saw the signs when they were trapped on Ocampa. Harry's still caught up in Libby and B'Elanna can't quite work out what she's feeling, especially after Chakotay's all but rejected her as a potential lover. Every time we meet to work on the warp ten project, our engineers get just a little closer."

Neelix spent four days crashing his way through the galley in the attempt to quell his hurt. The meals were almost edible as he forgot to add half his Delta quadrant spices. As the days passed, the Talaxian began to see how much both he and Kes had grown as individuals in their nine months on _Voyager_. They had outgrown the relationship born out of need. Sitting down late one night in the mess, they decided to be friends. However, the incident caused a wedge between B'Elanna and Harry's fledgling relationship. They still talked and lunched together, often with Commander Paris and worked on the warp ten project. Yet, that spark in their friendship disappeared. Everything changed irrevocably when Harry's shuttle almost blew up a week later. Walking onto the bridge, he rushed up to Tom at the helm, stating he owed the man one. Looking confused, Paris glanced at his wife, who shrugged her shoulders.

"What happened on that flight, Harry?" Tom demanded as their usual group gathered in Sandrine's the same night. Everyone had been curious after the Ensigns comments on the bridge.

"If you could go back, to Earth," Harry started to explain, looking at each person in turn, "and pick up your old life, you'd think all your dreams had come true, right?"

More than a little confused, Tom answered for the entire group, "I guess."

"I couldn't," the Ensign coloured and stuttered. "I mean, I tried but I knew it was wrong. Everything was just to perfect. Living in San Francisco, engaged to Libby and working at Starfleet."

"That's all you've ever wanted," Torres stated acidly, sounding more like Klingon B'Elanna than this new, softer version everyone was appreciate.

"I know," Harry huffed, "and at one point I would have been ecstatic to be home. I guess I realised it's not my life anymore. _Voyager_ is home, you guys are my family. I appreciated everything I have here and I don't want that to change."

"So why do you owe me one?" Tom asked, glancing at Kate while ignoring the look Ensign Kim directed at the Chief of Engineering.

"You don't want to know," Harry managed a smile. When Paris insisted and was joined by his wife, Kim informed the Commander of his alternative history.

"You went to the real Sandrine's," Kate smirked, imagining Mr. Kim's reaction, "in the hope of meeting one of us?" Nodding, Harry looked a little green. "Only to find out Tom wasn't my husband, but an ex-con, ex-Maquis and ex-Starfleet Officer that I extracted from goal to serve as an observer but got drunk on DS9, reincarcerated and missed our departure? Now that's a story I have to hear in greater detail."

"Hey," Tom smirked, placing his arm around his wife, "I came through for our Harry in the end, which just proves you can't keep a good man down."

"I never would have gotten back without you," Kim agreed.

B'Elanna sat quietly and watched the banter before her. In her chest, the four chambered and completely human heart began to beat just a little louder, stronger and faster. An emotion she wasn't familiar with took root. Not sure if she liked it, or what it meant, Torres decided to call it a night. She needed time alone with her thoughts.

"Leaving so soon," Kate asked, watching her engineer closely. She'd seen the signs in both Harry and B'Elanna since her transformation. Tonight's discussion went a long way, in the Captain's opinion, of starting a relationship between them. One look into her husband's sparkling blue eyes and she knew he had the same thoughts. _Now Harry has given up hope of returning to Libby, it won't be long before those two are together_.

Over the next few months, the Paris's watched the pair of Engineers become closer. _Voyager_ continued through Kazon-Ogla space unmolested, thanks to Commander Paris's tenuous truce with Maje Jabin. That didn't mean the ship continued her journey towards the Alpha quadrant without mishap. A gravity ring almost crushed the vessel, the Botha caused the entire crew to become catatonic with delusions and Chakotay found yet more evidence that humans had seeded the Delta quadrant by finding ancestors of his people.

Then the worst possible scenario occurred. Captain Paris, Lt. Commander Tuvok and Lt. Torres went missing on an away mission. While Chakotay stepped up, attempting the diplomatic solution with the Morka, Commander Thomas Paris openly displayed his special operations training, becoming the consummate Intelligence Officer. The crew started avoiding him as he closed off to everyone, even the senior staff and returned to his official uniform of black.

"Mr. Paris," Chakotay called his acting Frist Officer into his office. After they were seated in the Captain's ready room, leaving a junior officer in charge of the bridge, the two men silently apprised each other. "I've heard from the Morka."

"Let me guess," Tom's tone sounded clipped, "Third Magistrate Augris wants to come aboard to discuss the situation personally."

Nodding, Chakotay watched and waited for Paris to come to his own conclusion. From the little he'd learnt, trolling through the Commander's personal file, Tom was more than up to the task of interrogating the Mokra representative. However, with his wife disappearance forty hours ago, the acting Captain became unsure if letting him lose was a best solution.

"I believe," Commander Paris turned his icey blue eyes on the man invading his wife's domain, "my skills would be better put to use in observation, Sir."

Agreeing, Chakotay found _Voyager_ had yet another problem as the senior officers returned to the bridge.

"I'm picking up a Starfleet signal," Harry reported, "coming from the nebular we passed two light years ago. Authentication protocols check out."

Going to the security station, Tom mirrored the Operations Officers screen on Tuvok's console. Entering his Intelligence codes, Paris informed the rest of the crew, "the encryption code was activated a month after Voyager became stranded in the Delta quadrant." Glancing around at the crew littering the bridge station, Tom knew they understood his meaning. "No other Starfleet vessel could have entered this region after the Caretakers array was destroyed."

"They must be looking for us," Harry's voiced was tinged with excitement.

"Or," Tom's piecing blue orbs speared the younger man, "someone is deliberately using the code to attract our attention."

"Seska," Chakotay muttered.

"Possibly," Paris responded, his face a mask of neutrality, "or another Intelligence operative onboard a federation vessel taken prior to our stranding."

"How long?" Chakotay demanded, suddenly comprehending just how high Commander Paris's clearance level. _It has to be at least twice that of the Captains. Hell, he's not a Lt. Commander as the Captain had us believe. Tom Paris is a full Commander. That means he outranks both Tuvok and I._ Glaring at the younger man, the Frist Officer awaited the answer.

"Up to two months," Tom admitted. He had access to the codes which would be used for the next year. They'd been in the Delta quadrant a little over ten months. "My bet is Seska and this is a Nistrim trap. I suggest we launch a probe after rescuing our crew and be prepared."

Few on the bridge misunderstood the order, coached as a statement. When Chakotay nodded, turning to Ensign Kim and making it so, no one misinterpreted the chain of Command. While Lt. Commander Chakotay might be the First Officer, Commander Thomas Paris was in charge of _Voyager_ , and would be if something happened to the Captain.

* * *

 **AN:** Well, we're actually not that far from wrapping up this series. Maybe another five chapters. After that, I intend to do shorter stories or episode rewrites. My mind is musing on the _Non Sequitur_ from Harry's point of view. Any story in this universe will have CP at the start of the title to let you know it's in the Captain's Prerogative timeline.


	34. It Begins

**Thirty-Four: It Begins.**

"Probe is away," Harry announced taking a quick look around the bridge. Both Commander Chakotay and Paris were in the command chairs, whispering between themselves.

Ensign Kim's mind was divided between the Starfleet signal and the lost away team, mostly. A small part of his awareness kept returning to B'Elanna. The Chief Engineer demanded to be one of the crew attempting to located the tellurium. Even in human form, Lt. Torres was very passionate and protective of her engines, refusing to allow anyone from her division to ensure the correct grade of material to repair the warp core plasma injectors.

Thoughts of the danger B'Elanna might be facing caused Harry's heart to speed slightly. She'd been missing almost fifty hours, on a planet dominated by a species Neelix described as paranoid and hostile with no use for diplomacy. Added to the Mokra situation, _Voyage_ r picked up a Federation transmission using Starfleet codes in use after they'd became lost in the Delta quadrant. Commander Paris believed it to be either a trap by the Nistrim, engineered with Seska's knowledge or another vessel trapped by the Caretaker prior to _Voyager_ stranding. Harry's heart couldn't help but agree with Tom, their people on the planet had to take priority. The probe will soon indicate which scenario was correct.

 _Once_ , Ensign Kim managed to keep his sigh internalised, _I would have done or said anything to get back to Earth, to go home, even to have the possibility for a few seconds. I found out home is not a place but a feeling. I can't imagine a life without B'Elanna. I'm sorry, Libby. I guess getting stuck so far away has changed me._

"Trajectory locked. Probe in on target and transmitting," Harry forced his attention back to his console and finished his report. "It will take seven point four hours to reach the nebula."

"Keep me informed of its progress," Chakotay ordered. Turning to Commander Paris, seated in the First Officers seat on the bridge, he requested, "what did you think of our Mokra friend?"

"They didn't know we were within their systems borders," Tom answered easily while his eyes remained a flinty blue. He'd sat quietly in the interview, not needing to play the bad cop. Chakotay managed very well by himself. However, using all his senses to observe the well-trained military man, who didn't give a way anything, Commander Paris devoted his entire attention to Augris's non-verbal communications, as one professional to another. "Nor could they guess what we wanted with the fourth planet. Thanks to Neelix, we know the Mokra dominate this area of space, but their influence doesn't go further than this star system thanks to the Kazon. The Alsaurians have lived under their control for decades, kept as prisoners on their home world, working as slave labour to collect the resources required by the Mokra Order."

"I see the similarities to the Cardassian's," Chakotay agreed. Neither man needed to add, if Seska found this race instead of the Kazon, they would have pursued _Voyager_ and enslaved the crew as was their _modem operandi_ with anyone in their territory. Technologically, the Mokra were somewhere between the Nistrim who had stolen their technology and Federation. They were on the verge of developing warp technology, replicators and transporters.

"My best guess," Tom continued theorising, "they have at least one of our people and are attempting to get information out of them, which means they'll be looking for the others. We know Cullah and his band are spreading rumours about _Voyager_ for their own gain, that we are on the edge of Nistrim territory and more isolated than ever. If there is a resistance movement on that planet, they might be hiding members of the crew."

"The Mokra will attempt to question whoever they have," Chakotay agreed with a nod. His hand straying to his chin, as it did when he was analysing a situation. Deep in his heart, an organ Chakotay couldn't allow to speak at the moment and refused to listen to if it did, he knew old B'Elanna might have endured an interrogation. He couldn't see new B'Elanna coping in the same position. "We have to find a way to locate the Captain, Tuvok and Torres."

Nodding his agreement, Tom looked over his shoulder in time to see the expression on Ensign Kim's face. Harry's mind was only partially on his job. His worry for B'Elanna showed. The rest of the crew were just as upset, learning that three senior officers were missing.

"I'm not the only one," Paris stated with a frown and indicating the operations console, "who want's our crew back for personal reasons. But," pausing, the Commander turned his icy blue eyes on Chakotay, "I'm not willing to lead a rescue team in blind. I'm going to question Neelix about these people, see if there is any information he believed to be irrelevant. When the Captain returns, I'm calling a meeting of the senior staff. From the next away mission, protocol will be followed. The Captain and Chief Engineer are not to be put in danger again."

"Your wife," Chakotay smirked, even though he understood the seriousness of the accusation highlighted by the Intelligence Officer, "won't be happy, cooped up on _Voyager_ while you, Tuvok and I have all the fun."

"Kate," Tom hissed, "can learn to live without me, you or Tuvok. _Voyager_ needs her Captain and Engineer. I can't think of another individual more committed to getting this crew home with Federation principles intact, or a anyone more capable of keeping those engines running."

"You don't think Tuvok or I could take command, if necessary," the First Officer asked. His anger settled quickly, watching the expression in Paris's eyes. This was the cool, calm Intelligence Officer, not the practical joker sitting in the number one's seat. It was obvious Tom meant every word he said. "Or even yourself?"

"I never wanted a Starfleet career. I chose it to be near my wife. Neither of you," Tom stated, suddenly turning to spear Chakotay, "have the unique combination of science and command history, nor the love and devotion of a spouse on board. Kate's able to see beyond her Starfleet training, use her scientific methodology to navigate situations requiring unique solutions but still keep to Federation principles."

"And when she steers off course," Chakotay understood, more than he'd like too. He's seen a different side of Tom Paris over the last day and a half. "You're there to point out the errors of her ways."

Chuckling, Tom responded, "something like that. But," sighing, he forced himself to relax and consider what was to come, "this is not helping get our people back. I suggest you transport me down to the surface near the last known coordinates of the away team. If the Mokra know we have people unaccounted for, they'll be doing a door to door search in an attempt to find them. I need to locate, then contact the local resistance, uncover if they're hiding our people or if the Mokra they have them. Give me three hours, then beam me back. I should be able to gather enough data to supplement anything the scanners or Neelix can tell us. In the meantime, find a weakness we can exploit."

"Aye, Sir," Chakotay managed the same brazen tone he'd heard Paris use with his wife, and a grin. "Anyone might think you out ranked me, Commander."

Giving the man lounging in his wife's chair a hard stare, it took Tom Paris a few moments to realise the First Officer was only partially joking. Ten years teaching tactics, more than one Intelligence officer would have attending Chakotay's advanced classes. It seemed his secret would soon be out, causing Tom to shake his head.

"Maybe I do," he stated softly, directing his words directly at Chakotay, "but in this uniform, you'll never know for sure."

Cursing as the transporter beam started to tingle on his skin, Tom Paris discovered Tuvok and Torres were being interrogated, while the Captain had been taken in by a local. The Commander had been following his wife and the elderly man into the town square as _Voyager_ reclaimed him. The pair seemed about to meet a contact, but shied away at the last minute. Observing the man's shiny boots indicated he was new at clandestine encounters, making such a simple mistake. The operative was obviously Mokra, sent to capture the last of _Voyager's_ crew.

"Report," Chakotay met Paris in the transporter room. Tom's cut lip and swollen hand indicated he'd had some trouble.

"The Captain is alive and well," he stated, wiping at the trickle of blood, "and attempting to get information on the Mokra prison. I assume she's attempting to extract Tuvok and Torres. I managed to find one member of the resistance but he wasn't pleased to see me or offer any information. It seems the prisons on this world are subterranean and impossible to escape. I have some limited information on the layout and control systems."

Nodding, the two discussed the specifics on the way to the bridge. Going directly to the operations station, Tom worked with Harry to locate the exact position of the goal complex. "Monitor that location. Let's hope you can find a breach in their system. If you do, contact me, then have the transporter Chief find a way to get a team into that compound. I'm going to be briefing Andrews, Doyle and Jarvis for the extraction mission."

"Aye, Sir," Harry found the response came out automatically. Until this event, he's always seen Tom Paris as his friend. Now, the young Ensign wasn't so sure. That distance, the one the Captain used, seemed to surround the Commander.

"Any information on that signal," Tom asked in a sudden change of mood.

"It's originating in a nebula two light years away," Harry reported.

Chakotay sighed and stood. Turning to the operations station, he stated, "making an exact location impossible. The Captain's scientific impression would be welcome about now."

"If it is a Starfleet vessel," Harry theorised, "it's a perfect hiding place for a smaller ship."

"Especially," Tom agreed, "if they've heard the Nistrim's rumours about _Voyager_."

No one needed to state the obvious. Other classes of starships didn't have the weapons, defences or capabilities of _Voyager_ , a state-of-the-art vessel. Their best chance of survival would be to wait and form a convoy. This quadrant, unexplored and seemingly filled with hostile species offered many routes back to Federation space. The best way to attract Voyager's attention, would be to hide and wait. On the other hand, Seska knew this and wouldn't be above using the same tactic.

"I just don't know," Chakotay shook his head as Tom headed down to the command level to join him, "how Seska could have gotten those codes!"

"I wasn't the only Starfleet operative in the Maquis, Chakotay," Tom admitted. "Besides, just before we were pulled into this quadrant by the Caretaker, Seska disappeared for several hours while we refuelled on Gandron II."

"You suspect," he watched the younger man's expression carefully, "she met her Cardassian contact?"

Shrugging, Tom didn't answer. Both knew it to be more than possible with the events that had occurred since. "We only investigate that transmission if the probe confirms another Starfleet vessel. At this point in time, I'm putting nothing past Seska. In fact, I suspect her next target will be you. After we clear Mokra space, Voyager's going to be travelling a very dangerous path, between the Kazon-Nistrim and the Vidiian Solidarity. Emotional blackmail is Seska's specialty. If she's not behind this, then we can be sure she had something else up her sleeve."

It took Chakotay a few seconds to understand Paris's comment. Before he could answer, Tom was calling for his hand-picked rescue team to join him in cargo bay two. Ninety minutes later Ensign Kim found a breach in the Mokra shielding around the Prison complex. Tom and his team beamed in, taking down five guards in the initial skirmish. Before starting their search, Commander Paris decided to set a small distraction. Finding the nearest computer terminal, he released the force fields on the cells.

"That should keep them busy," he grinned, indicating the passage they should take.

In their cell, Torres, so far, hadn't been touched but Tuvok was in a bad state. Running short on patience, Augris decided it was time to start on the small woman. He didn't get the chance, discovering she had more power in her left hook than expected. Grinning as a trickle of blood rolled down his cheek from a cut above his eyes, the blow merely glanced off the trained worrier.

"I'm going to enjoy this," he taunted, pinning the Torres against the wall.

Tuvok's Vulcan strength, almost at an end, allowed him reach for the nerve plexus on Augris's shoulder. They went down together as a klaxon sounded, along with shouts and rapid firing. B'Elanna scooped up the unconscious man's weapon and attempted to help her comrade. Tuvok proved heavier than her limited strength could manage.

 _Voyager's_ transporter Chief managed to get the rescue team as close to the high security cells Commander Paris considered the most probable location of their people. However, the Mokra Order detected the intrusion and reinforcements were pouring into the goal. Tom knew their time was limited. They needed to find Tuvok and Torres and get out. Rounding the first corner, they came across one of the Alsaurians released by his interruption to the power grid.

"Are you responsible for this?" the man demanded.

Nodding, Tom didn't allow his team to stop. The native joined their search, quickly locating his own people and adding them to their ranks. Tapping Tom on the shoulder, one of the newest indicated they should follow the passage to the left. They came upon Torres attempting to half drag Tuvok. She'd managed three steps under the weight of her companion.

"Andrews, help Tuvok. Doyle, Jarvis you take point, I'll bring up the rear," Tom ordered, placing an arm around B'Elanna in support. "Thanks," he threw over his shoulder to the resistance fighters, "but it's time for us to leave."

Nodding, the Alsaurians indicated the correct hallway before melting into another passage. _Voyager's_ small contingent chose tunnels leading upwards. They needed to make it to the surface in order locate the Captain and then beam out. Turning a corner, Jarvis peaked around, sighting a woman speaking with the guard at the prison entry. Signalling to the Commander, Tom quickly switched places.

A smirk on his face, he would know that shape anywhere. His wife was attempting to enter the prison, or at least had been before he set off the alarm. She'd managed to get through the two levels of security before being stopped at the final gate. Seeing Kate's act for the ruse it was, the guard grabbed the woman, believing her to be part of the escape attempt.

"Let her go," the elderly man Tom had seen with Kate earlier in the day screamed. Weapon in hand, he attempted to use it.

The guard used Kate as a human shield. The distraction gave Tom the opportunity to take the guard from behind. Arm around his throat, Commander Paris snapped the man's neck easily, dropping the body to the ground. However, a blast from the guards gun erupted, hitting the old man. The Captain immediate knelt beside him, holding his face and whispering in the moments before death came.

Able to feel the emotion rolling of his wife, Tom laid his hands on her shoulders, squeezing lightly. Noticing Kate wipe away a tear, she easily entered her husband's warm embrace. One of the Alsaurian resistance fighters, drawn to the prison's entry to ensure his comrades escape, stated the man's bravery wouldn't go unnoticed. Nodding, Commander Paris called for his team to be beam out.

"Kate," Tom pointed to the necklace on her desk in their quarters. Once again, she'd refused to attend sick bay, allowing her husband to run a medical tricorder over her in the privacy of their accommodation before returning to duty.

Picking it up, she sighed. "That's a long story, for another time. Right now, we need to get _Voyager_ repaired and on the way to that nebula."

"Even if Seska's laid a trap?" Tom countered. "Kate, as you husband, I'm telling you, you're not going on another away mission. Don't make me pull rank on this one ,Captain."

"Out," Kathryn Paris pointed to the portal leading to the corridor. She'd been thought enough over the last two days. An argument with her husband about ships business in their private quarters wouldn't end well.

Muttering under his breath, Tom tapped his comm badge. He knew this was going to be a hard sell. "All senior officers to the briefing room. Commander Pairs out."

"You're really going to do this?" The Captain demanded. She felt tired, hungry and dirty. There wasn't time for more than a change of clothing, if she wanted to get her ship moving in the direction of that signal.

"I'm going to do," Tom's glare turned hard and professional as he headed for the door, "whatever it takes to get this ship home and that includes keeping the Captain at the helm."

"Sir," Harry found the atmosphere in the briefing room artic. Both the Captain and Commander Tuvok were in attendance, even though the Vulcan should have been in Sick bay. Directing his information towards Commander Paris, Ensign Kim knew this data wouldn't be received well. "The probe stopped transmitting and self-destructed so it wouldn't be captured. Sensor reading confirm a Kazon vessel as the source of the Starfleet signal. They attempted to lock a tractor beam onto the probe."

"So," Chakotay looked absolutely furious, "Seska had Federation codes prior to our stranding in the Delta quadrant."

"The question we should be asking," Tom supplied, glancing sideways to gauge the Captain's mood, "is what she intended to do if we'd entered that nebula?"

Kathryn Paris watched as her crew consider theories. Her anger remained, especially after the sacrifice made by Caylem so _Voyager_ could continue on her mission to get home. Yet, it she hadn't been part of the away team, if, as Captain, she'd sent her Intelligence officer, one who'd faced worse missions in the past, maybe the result would have been very different. The real problem, the Captain realised, wasn't any of her crew, but Seska. Unknown and their reputation intact, her ship would have a much easier passage back to the Alpha quadrant.

 _My anger is misplaced_ , Kathryn understood, _born out of grief and I'm taking it out on the person I love the most. Tom's under just as much pressure and doing the same. Somehow, we have to stop before this cycle causes irreparable damage to our marriage._

"Enough," Kathryn stood, gaining the attention of every person in the room. Turning to face the window, she declared, "I'm not playing to Seska and the Kazon, now on in the future. Whatever they had install for Voyager, we've managed to outwit them this time. Commander," turning to her husband, the Captain's eyes softened marginally, "the composition of future away teams will be at your discretion."

"Aye, Captain," Tom responded quietly. He understood exactly how much it took for his wife to give that command.

"Commander Chakotay, you are to secede to Commander Paris's authority in all matters concerning the Kazon," the Captain continued. The words _if something happens to me_ left unsaid.

Nodding, they both understood, without Tom's timely advice, they would have explored the phenomena, possibly falling into Seska's trap. Just what she planned, or if she'd attempt it again, they'd soon find out. Captain Kathryn Paris was afraid, at that time, she'd lose her husband completely. As much as she wished to avoid Tom's steady gaze, Kate found her eyes straying in his direction.

 _I can see it_ , she sighed internally, _that day is coming, and sooner than I'd like. As we travel through Nistrim territory, the demands on my ship and crew are going to increase. Seska will do anything to get an advantage over the other sects. Maje Cullah, you are about to learn an old Earth adage. Behind every good man, is an even better woman. Seska stands behind your throne, not as the docile woman you expect, but an enemy just waiting to take the spoils. Once she has Voyager, with the reputation she's perpetrated in this quadrant, Seska will make alliances in the attempt to start a new Empire._

Turning back to her senior officers, Kathryn Paris ended the briefing with a quiet, "dismissed."

As the others filed out of the briefing room, Tom attempted to capture Chakotay's gaze. The man ignored him. It seemed he understood the Captain, that he was _Voyager's_ weak point, that Seska might use their previous relationship against them.

"Kate," Tom whispered, going to his wife who had once again turned to look out at the stars.

"Not here Commander," the Captain ordered, her tone misty. She appeared small and worn to his assessing eyes. "I'm not happy with you right now. My First Officer isn't going to take this well and it may cause his decision making to be impaired." Suddenly turning with tears welling in her eyes, Kathryn found her anger directed as her husband. "Damm it, Tom, I need Chakotay's advice, as a Maquis, as a man who knows Seska in a way none of us do. You have damaged the relationship we've built as a command team in the last ten months."

"If you recall, I was the one who forced Chakotay to play by your rules. Part of my role, Captain," Tom's tone became as icy as his glare, "it to ensure the safety of this vessel and her crew. I will relieve even you, if the correct set of events occur. Oh," Commander Paris smirked, "and give Chakotay some credit. He managed to figure out my official rank. Your First Officer deferred to my authority in sending the probe. We've already spoken of the emotional blackmail Seska will attempt in order to disrupt _Voyager_ and her crew. If there's nothing further, Captain…."

Waving her hand, Mrs. Kathryn Paris didn't need to utter the words. As the door closed, she felt something break. Never before had Tom acted with such a professional demeanour towards her.

 _If,_ she suddenly realised, falling into the nearest chair and allowing the tears to fall, _we'd never been stranded in this quadrant, Intelligence would never have let you go. You're too good at your job, Tom. At some point, Starfleet would have sent you on a mission knowing you wouldn't return. No matter what your personal thoughts on retirement and being a stay at home father, they would have roped you back in with a mission you couldn't refuse. This situation is no all that different to poor Caylum's. Waiting at home for a wife and daughter that would never arrive._

The tears came harder as Mrs. Kate Paris came to the startling realisation that such an event had already occurred. _They forced you to take the Maquis assignment, that's why you were so distant for the weeks before you told me. They used my capture and assault to convince you to take the mission. Oh, Tom, you deliberately came off contraceptives so I might have a small part of you before you left. You never expected to come home from that assignment. Well,_ standing and wiping away the tears, the Captain reappeared, _I'm not going to lose another member of this crew. Intelligence doesn't own you anymore. I do._

Tapping her comm badge, Kathryn Paris barked, "Captain to Sick bay." Before the EMH could answer, the Captain continued, "Doctor, I'm on my way. I need to speak with you about a personal matter."

* * *

 **AN:** Prototype and Threshold next.


	35. Prototype

**Thirty-Five: Prototype.**

 **AN:** As this is my AU, please note that Alliances occurs post Threshold. You'll understand the reason in another chapter or two. I'm hoping, from next week, my rate of writing increases as, finally, I'll be moving into my new home. I only have to clean up the old one and my sea change will be complete.

* * *

Tom entered their quarters cautiously, unsure of the reception he'd receive. After calling the briefing earlier in the day, Commander Paris needed time to cool off. Removing to his office on deck 9A, he'd spent five hours analysing Seska's plot to draw _Voyager's_ attention, followed by another deciding how to appease his wife after yet another professional disagreement. The six long stemmed red roses in one hand, a bottle of ambrosia, liberated from Sikaris in the other, Tom Paris decided to use the door chime, just in case.

He wasn't prepared for the sight that greeted him. Kathryn Paris, dressed only in the peach coloured robe of the negligée set he'd gifted for her thirty eighth birthday, literally jumped into his arms. Reflexes honed from hours of training in his simulations allowed the roses to fall to the floor as one of Tom's arms stopped the pair of them from ending in the same location. The ambrosia, along with his comm badge, made it to the table to one side of the portal before Mrs. Paris encircled her husband's hips and dragged him further into the room. Incidentally, they crashed into the Captain's desk. That didn't stop Kate unzipping Tom's pants and pushing the material out of the way from her prize. Understanding his wife's urgent need, his manhood responded adequately, while his hands removed the silky material from his marauding fingers. Their mouths crashed, tongues tangled and the desk groaned at being used in this unusual fashion.

"What," more than a little shocked at the pleasurable greeting, Tom asked when their breathing settled back to something approaching normal, "did I do to deserved that."

"If you don't get out of that uniform, then carry me to our bed," Kathryn growled, nipping at his neck, indicating she wasn't finished with him yet, "and do it again, slowly this time, I may not forgive you."

"Aye, Captain," Tom grinned, thrilled they were at least communicated on this most basic levels. The talking, he knew, would come later, curled up in each other's arms, the lights low and their voices soft.

"Bridge to the Captain," Chakotay's dulcet tones and the continuous chirping of her comm badge finally woke Kathryn Paris from a most pleasant slumber. Muttering under her breath, she called for the lights to twenty five percent and the stardate. Wrapped around her diminutive body was the larger frame of her husband. Smiling, she felt sore in regions that hadn't had such a workout in months.

 _At least_ , she grinned, _since our last argument. Only then the pool table in our private copy of Sandrine's took the brunt of Tom's affections. Who am I kidding, I needed the last ten hours as much as my husband. Maybe more, but I'm not about to tell Tom the reason why. I guess that's why my First Officer is trying to contact me. It's not every day the Captain decides to ignore the alarm and sleep in._

To the best of the Captain's recollection, her comm badge was probably somewhere on the floor of the living room where Kathryn Paris had rapidly discarded her official regalia to become Mrs. Kate Paris. The fact it was still attached to her uniform, along with her pips, indicated her mental turmoil at the time. Entering her quarters after yesterday's events, she'd waited for an hour before requesting the location of her husband. Finding Commander Paris in his office informed Kate her ploy wasn't going to work, at least not without some major effort on her part. Leaving Tom to cool down, and the changing into the negligée before he returned to their quarters seemed to achieve her goal. Arching an eyebrow when Tom's head appeared above her, she instructed the computer to put the call through the speakers.

 _There's no way I'm getting out of this bed until at least lunch time_ , Kate Paris smirked up at her husband. He knew that look and could be counted on to act on his inclinations.

"Go ahead," she answered, fending off her husband's roving hands. They were slowly making their way from her hip to breast.

"I gather your taking medical leave," Chakotay's voice sounded a little amused.

"Doctors orders," Kathryn managed, now having to swat Toms fingers in an effort to get him to stop long enough for her voice to sound normal over the comm. "I'm surprised he didn't inform you."

"The EMH channel was active when I came on duty, an hour ago," Chakotay teased. "Something about proscribing a relaxation regime for the Captain."

"What can I say," Kathryn glanced at her husband, whose eyes had become wide with the realisation this pleasure interlude would continue. Mimicking the Doctor, the Captain stated, "I've checked Starfleet regulations. The Chief Medical Officer outranks the Captain in health matters. Now I realise this may be the first time a hologram has given an order to a captain, but I'm ordering you to precede to your quarters and relax. May, I also suggest, you take Commander Paris with you!"

"Am I to understand," the First Officers tone didn't hide his delight at catching two of the senior crew, especially when they'd had such a public disagreement yesterday, negating their duties, "Commander Paris is also on leave as Tom hasn't appeared on the bridge for his shift."

"You can call it the Captain's prerogative," Kate attempted to keep her smile contained. _Sometimes_ , she considered, _it's nice to be in command and not have to explain my decisions._

"I've been temporarily reassigned," Tom smirked, keeping a professional timber but getting in before his wife ended the call. "Sorry, I forgot to let crewman Grimes know he had the con this morning."

"I've already rearranged the crew rosters for the next twenty-four hours," Chakotay didn't hide his chuckle this time. "See you at 0800 tomorrow. Bridge out."

Chakotay's snigger echoed in the room after he'd signed off. On the bridge, the First Officer shook his head. _At least_ , he considered, _I don't have to explain B'Elanna's latest endeavour with that metal man Harry discovered floating in space an hour ago. Lt. Carey's taking care of the plasma injectors after Ensign Kim used the tellurium to get the warp engine back on line. I'm glad our Chief Engineer has found a side project. It means Torres might finally be delegating some engineering tasks to her assistant, which will please Joe no end. Perhaps remaining human has been better for B'Elanna. She certainly seems calmer and more in control of her emotions. Of course, now Harry wants to spend every moment with Torres under the guise of helping with her, either with this project or the warp ten venture Tom's conned them into. I guess that will be our second married couple within the Senior Crew, if B'Elanna ever admits she's fallen for our Operations Officer._

Shaking his head, Chakotay called to the conn officer, "report, Mr. Grimes."

The crewman smiled, "plane sailing ahead, Sir."

"One of Commander Paris's sayings?" Chakotay smirked.

"Aye, sir," Grimes returned, his grin matching the First Officer's. While the bridge crew hadn't heard the exchange between Chakotay and the Captain, they understood the Paris's wouldn't be on duty today. "I may not have the Commanders sense of humour, but I can supply a few of his twentieth century axioms, if you like?"

"Perhaps we'll leave that for tomorrow," Chakotay responded, his eyes twinkling.

Commander Tom Paris had certainly had an effect on the thirteen personnel in his department. Each of the pilots, some with little more than basic academy training at _Voyagers_ launch, had been drilled until their skills were finely honed. Three of the Baylis recruits demonstrated such raw talent, Tom precured them for his section. Cadet Daisey Carter sat at Grimes side, on her final supernumerary duty shift. From tomorrow, she'd be flying _Voyager_ for two hours, if they didn't encounter a situation resulting in yellow or red alert.

"Commander," the young woman greeted Tom as he stepped onto the turbolift heading for the bridge the next morning. A wide smile erupted on her lips when the Commander indicated Daisy should take handover from the Gamma shift helmsman while he watched on.

"Enjoying the feeling, Cadet?" Tom infused his tone with glee as he observed Daisy's fingers stroke the panel before her. _She's a natural_ , the Commander shook his head.

This feeling of euphoria helped, spending most of yesterday in bed or his quarters with his wife. They'd talked, for hours, made love again, several times and finally slept after sharing an intimate dinner with his roses in the middle of the table and bottle of Ambrosia as an accompaniment. Neither Captain nor Commander Paris realised how much they needed the time to reconnect.

"Aye, Sir," Daisy answered, her enthusiasm and concentration colouring her words.

"Well, I'm going to sit in the big chair," the Commander teased, both the cadet and Chakotay, who was at his own station, "just in case you need me."

"That being the case, Mr. Paris," the Frist Officer stood, sweeping his hand towards the still warm seat, "I'll report the events of yesterday to Captain."

"Kate went straight to her ready room without stopping at the mess for breakfast," Tom sighed. All too quickly, the elation of the last twenty-four hours disappeared as reality once again crashed down upon him.

"While you were playing hooky, I believe is your archaic term," Chakotay stated, a hint of waring in his tone, "there have been some developments I need to report to the Captain."

Chakotay noticed the moment Tom's eyes turned on him, questions fliting across his blue orbs.

"Our Chief Engineer has a little side project we picked up yesterday. Seems to have Ensign Kim's attention as well," the Frist Officer teased, understanding the Intelligence Officer had miss read his words.

"The project," Tom hinted, a very slight warning in his tone, "or the Chief Engineer?"

"I'm man enough to know when to bow out gracefully," Chakotay answered in a whisper, before turning towards the Captains ready room with a wink.

Shaking his head, Commander Paris came to the sudden realisation, he'd be in charge on the bridge more often, especially as Chakotay knew his true rank. With the orders given by their Captain at the infamous briefing, Kate, Tuvok and Chakotay would load the onerous task onto him, allowing them time to complete their own duties, especially as his department added three new crew to the roster.

 _Well, Tom old boy_ , he mused silently, _it looks like the big chair has finally found you, no matter how hard you try to avoid it. Not only have you become stuck taking the bridge, it looks like this new batch of pilots is going to remove any chance of flying more than the warp ten shuttle, if we can ever solve that torque issue. Added to that insult, I have cadets to train. No wonder dad used to complain about his time at the Academy._

Commander Chakotay took his time reporting to the Captain as the minutes turned into an hour. _Either that_ , Tom considered, _or my wife has gone to down to Engineering to take a look at the Tin Man personally. Sounds like Kate, unable to pass up any scientific curiosity. As for Chakotay, I bet he's in his office, using the time to catch up on reports._

"Well, Mr. Paris," the Captain offered as she strode onto the bridge with the Frist Officer at her side half way through the alpha shift and just prior to the lunch rotations. Approaching her chair, Kathryn smiled and her grey eyes glittered with amusement. "I'm glad to see you keeping my seat warm. Lt. Torres and Ensign Kim have uncovered some information about our Tin Man."

Returning the Captain's cheerfulness, Tom extricated himself to the bench beside his wife's chair, happy just to be near her while they were in such a calm region of space. Keeping his eye on Daisy, it seemed the young woman enjoyed her foray alone at the helm. Allowing her two-hour stint to drag into three and then four, Commander Paris listened to Kate and Chakotay discuss the Pralor robots and B'Elanna's problems getting the unit working.

"Torres does know we'll have to return it?" Tom asked, his voice mocking.

"If we can find its people," the Captain shook her head. "Didn't your source give you any ideas about this, Tom? Surely someone else in this quadrant has come across these, what am I supposed to call them?"

"We know there are pockets of independence within the general region controlled by the Kazon," Tom responded frowning.

"We've come across enough of them," Chakotay recalled. "Not all of them are friendly."

"Or as friendly as they first appear," Tom stated. "I suggest we take all precautions, if and when we find these Pralor. From the sounds of B'Elanna's report, they're closer to Commander Data than metallic objects in sentience."

"Shall we discuss this further over lunch, gentleman?" Kathryn offered with a raised eyebrow. Looking toward her husband, his eyes twinkled. Mrs. Paris could read his mind, but the kind of dish he wanted would have to wait until they were off duty. "Mr. Rollin's, you have the bridge," she ordered as the three senior officers headed for the turbolift.

"Torres to the Captain," B'Elanna comm'ed as the Alpha shift ended. It didn't take long to arrange a meeting. Kathryn Paris sat at her desk in her ready room, PADD in hand. Indicating the engineer should sit, Lt. Torres couldn't contain her enthusiasm, "apparently thousands of them were built as service modules, but the race who created them, these Builders, were killed off decades ago in a war. Now they're wearing out, breaking down. They've learnt to make repairs to themselves, some pretty complex, but the construction of a power module, the device that sustains them, is beyond their grasp. It's an incredible challenge, Captain, but with enough time to study their systems, I might be able to do it."

"I don't doubt your abilities, B'Elanna," Kathryn smiled, "but helping them in this way is a clear violation of the Prime Directive. Besides, Ensign Kim has located one of their vessels on the long-range sensors. I've ordered a course change so we can return Tin Man."

"Tin Man?" B'Elanna demanded, before sighing, "one of Tom's archaic terms?"

"Chakotay's, I believe," the Captain smirked. Before the engineer could recommence her argument, Kathryn stood. "If I understand your reason for designing this power module, it's to create more of their kind."

"They've expressed a desire to procreate," B'Elanna stated, her arms crossed and brown eyes glittering with emotion. Something about this situation was hitting a nerve she didn't want to explore.

"I'm not saying they don't have that right. However, that's not the issue here," Kathryn held up a hand to stop her engineer's retort. "What you're talking about is giving them new abilities, abilities their creators didn't. We don't know why the Builders designed them this way, if there was a very good reason to withhold this ability. If they're adaptable, as you say, and capable of educating themselves, they might very well learn to construct a power module themselves someday."

"Someday could be too late," Torres stated, incensed.

"B'Elanna, I share your scientific curiosity and I admire your compassion," Kathryn found her emotions divided. Mrs. Paris and Captain Paris wared with each other. Yet, in this room, her duty was clear. Turning her grey eyes on the Chief Engineer, the Captain declared, "but the answer is no. What you are proposing is exactly the kind of tampering the Prime Directive prohibits. We know almost nothing about these creatures or the race that built them. Who are we to swoop in, play God and then continue on our way without the slightest consideration of the long-term effects of our actions?"

Nodding, Torres knew she'd been dismissed. As the door closed behind the woman, Kathryn stood and approached the replicator. Choosing tea, the taste of the first sip made her frown.

 _What I wouldn't do for a coffee about now. I have to get used to it_ , the Captain sighed, _if my personal plans come to fruition. That's what's causing my emotions to vacillate on this issue. I'm attempting to procreate without my husband's knowledge and yet I'm telling B'Elanna she can't give the same options to the Pralor robot. There are six couples now on Voyager, three in committed relationships. Two weeks ago, I was approached to preside over our first wedding. Kes wanted to have a child when her elogium started. I talked with Chakotay and Tom about the consequences of turning Voyager into a generational ship._ Throwing her hands up, Kathryn Paris knew she might be the first mother on board, setting an example for the rest of her crew. _Well,_ the Captain found the funny side of her argument, _at this moment in time, you are the only married woman. Makes sense you should be the first to become with child._

"Come," she called. The door chime caught the Captain mid smirk as she pondered such weighty thoughts. "Tom, what are you doing here?"

"They took B'Elanna," he stated, furious. When his wife gave him a quizzical look, Commander Paris wondered what she'd been considering to lose all track of time. "Harry contacted the Pralor vessel when we came in range. I have to say, for Tin Men, they are very polite. That was, until they forced Torres onto their vessel and put up shields we can't penetrate."

Stalking past her concerned Intelligence Officer, the Captain marched onto the bridge. Her senior officers remained at their stations well into the Beta shift to observed Tin Man's return. It seemed their Vulcan Tactical Officer joined the party.

"Yellow alert. Tuvok," Kathryn requested an updated report.

"I am unable to establish their weapons status or capability," the Vulcan stated.

"They are refusing all hails," Harry added, anger in his tone.

Chakotay, standing in the middle of the bridge, indicated he'd ordered a signal sent out on all frequencies, which had been ignored.

"Mr. Paris," the Captain ordered, noticing another of the new Bayliss Cadets at the Helm, "take the conn. Mr. Tuvok, red alert, shield and ready phasers. Mr. Kim open a channel. We're going to get our Engineer back!"

Any thoughts of the disagreement with B'Elanna faded over the next six hours. The Pralor's defensive capabilities out matched those of _Voyager_. Staying out of their weapons range, Mr. Kim noted another vessel approaching. Its design was similar to that of the Pralor ship. However, the moment it approached, the identical vessels set upon each other.

"Captain," Tom called from his station, "while the other ship is creating a diversion, I might be able to fly a shuttle past their shields and transport Torres out."

"Make it so, Commander," Kathryn ordered. Turning to watch her husband closed out by the turbolift, Mrs. Paris couldn't help be moved by the utter look of devastation on Ensign Kim's face. "Harry," she offered a slight smile, "keep a constant transporter lock on the shuttle. I want Tom and B'Elanna beamed out the moment it looks like the Pralor have detected them. Helm, ready warp engines. We may need to make a rapid escape."

"Aye, Captain," Baytart replied.

"Yes, Captain," Ensign Kim responded with a nod at the same time. The acknowledgement of his emotions toward B'Elanna meant more to Harry than he could express, especially when Tom called for a medical beam out after rescuing Lt. Torres.

"Mr. Kim," Kathryn managed to keep her smile internalised at the subtle look of elation on Harry's young face, "why don't you head down to sick bay. I want a report on Lt. Torres condition."

"Aye, Captain," Harry couldn't contain his jubilation, or the spring in his step as he left the bridge.

The Captain and first officer shared a glance before grinning and shaking their heads. "Young love. It won't be long," Chakotay predicted, "before your preforming a marriage."

"Tom's started a betting pool," Kathryn sighed theatrically. "Not that I'm supposed to know about it! I'm allowing it," the Captain's eyebrow rose at her Frist Officers feigned innocence, "because it's good for morel. Perhaps you have been ignoring it for the same reason?"

"Yes, Captain," Chakotay's grin widened. "I have rations on three months."

"For a wedding," she asked, "or Harry and B'Elanna's in particular?"

"Both," he responded.

Shaking her head, Kathryn Paris handed the bridge to Tuvok after yet another long and exhausting shift. Instead of going to her quarters, the Captain called into sick bay. Lt. Torres burns had been regenerated and she'd soon be released. The EMH forced Ensign Kim to leave when B'Elanna promised to stay with him overnight. It seemed the Pralor were not happy to have their prototype destroyed by the very person who built it. B'Elanna had almost payed the ultimate price for ending her creation. Undoubtedly, Harry would want to hear every detail and it would prove cathartic for the engineer to share her ordeal.

"Captain," Lt. Torres elated expression faded on noticing her commanding officer. "I don't know what to say."

"As far as I'm concerned," Kathryn's open expression demonstrated compassion and understanding, "you did what you thought was necessary to ensure the safety of this crew. It must have been difficult," the Captain added, wondering what she would have done in the same situation. At the questioning expression on her Engineer's face, Kathryn stated, "to destroy what you created."

Shrugging her shoulders, the young woman responded, "it was necessary."

"What you accomplished," Captain Paris found her voice more husky than usual, which demonstrated her mixed emotions, "was no small achievement, B'Elanna. You gave that unit life."

"You should have seen it, Kate," Torres forgot she was speaking with her captain. The friendship between the two women had come to a comfortable compromise between professional and personal. Somehow, this discussion had crossed that line. "It was incredible. I installed that module, and the prototype looked up at me and asked me for programming. I can imaging…."

"Imagine," Kathryn prompted, watching Torres with a knowing expression held deep within her grey eyes. When the younger woman hesitated, she added, "it would be similar to holding your own child for the first time."

"Is that so wrong?" B'Elanna demanded. "To want marriage, a husband, family, even out here in the Delta quadrant? You have Tom. Even when you were apart, you still had Tom."

"You don't think Harry Kim is capable of those feelings, or at least the depth of emotion you need to sustain a committed relationship?" Mrs. Kate Paris, friend, enquired.

"I'm not sure I am!" B'Elanna huffed. "Harry's had an ideal role model with his parents. Me, not so much."

"I'm sure my husband has told you about his childhood!" Kathryn exclaimed, recalling the snippets of conversations dealing with Lt. Torres upbringing. "We never saw his father in quite the same way. It didn't stop Tom pursuing a relationship with me. In fact, I'd say he's worked twice as hard to ensure our marriage is nothing like his parents."

"Don't you want children?" B'Elanna asked suddenly. Noticing the captain's expression closing, the engineer knew she'd asked a very difficult personal question.

"We," swallowing hard, Kathryn forced herself to speak to her friend, "have lost two pregnancies."

"I'm sorry," B'Elanna found the words issuing automatically, however her emotions demonstrated she understood after this event, more than she'd like too.

Sighing, the Captain returned. "As I said, it must have been difficult." With that, Kathryn Paris strode out of sick bay. Tapping her comm badge, she ordered her husband to meet her in their copy of Sandrine's. That pool table was about to get a workout, only this time, she'd be the one initiating the intimacy between them.


	36. Threshold

**Thirty-Six: Threshold.**

 **AN:** Please let me know if you're out there and still enjoying this story. A review or two would make the authors day. ;-)

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"Are you trying to kill me, Kate," Tom complained.

"That's the first time I've ever heard you protest about getting too much sex," his wife allowed one eyebrow to rise while her grey eyes speared him. Just as well Kathryn Paris was in the bath tub, her hands couldn't go to her hips in a stance that meant she was all business. "Get that uniform off, Mr. Paris and get in here."

Sighing, Tom sat on the edge of the tub, crossed his arms and glared. He'd finished his bridge shift, sitting in the big chair once again, so his wife and Chakotay could attend to other matters. Then he'd been on the holodeck for three hours, taking the Bayliss cadets through first year academy astrophysics. Finally, Harry and B'Elanna cornered Tom as he searched for his wife in the mess hall, to talk about some new ideas on the warp ten project. Kate hadn't answered his private comm to join them for a late working meal. It was now after eight in the evening, ships time, and Commander Paris still had a few more hours work before he could end his duty shift.

"What the hell's gotten into to you?" he demanded, although the humour in his blue eyes belayed the Commander's tone. "For the last week I think my wife's been replaced with some sex fiend. Every time I enter my quarters, she attacks me. Maybe I'd better take you to sick bay, so you can be examined by the Doc. I'm sure an alien's taken over your body."

Moving so she pulled the still dressed man into the bath, Tom spluttered as he surfaced. Bubble coated, he attempted to wipe the suds from his face. Shaking his head, Thomas Paris truly observed his wife and wasn't quite sure what he noticed lurking in her expression.

"Now," Kathryn asked sardonically, "will you get out of that uniform?"

"Do I have any choice?" Tom stated mockingly. Yet, there was a hint of shock in his voice. This behaviour from his spouse wasn't normal. Worried, he removed the sodden clothing before capturing Kate in an encompassing embrace. Pressing her body to his so she couldn't escape, Tom wanted some answers. "Before you get what you obviously want, you're going to tell me what's going on in that mind of yours. And don't tell me nothing. I've known you too long to fall for that one."

"I want a child," she stated, fingers lacing with Tom's.

Shocked, Commander Paris became completely still while his mind repeated the words over and over. "Why?" he managed, "Why now? Why here?"

"I'm forty-one, Tom," Kathryn sighed, her thumb stroking the palm of her husband's hand. "We've been travelling almost a year and barely covered a thousand light years. The Bayliss recruits are the youngest people on this ship. Even they're going to be old when we return to the Federation."

"Not buying it," Tom whispered in her ear. "We discussed the whole generation ship thing with Kes's elogium. There are too many issues that need to be addressed before _Voyager's_ ready for kids. If I were to guess," he pulled her tighter, "I'd say this has to do with Seska and the fact my time on board is running out."

"Dam it Tom," Kathryn struggled out of his hold and stood. Her naked body covered with bubbles didn't stop the Captain's expression. Hands on hips in that stance Tom knew so well, she was magnificent in her anger. "I want something of you, if you don't come back. Waiting until we reach Earth isn't an option. Our son will be a grown man, believing your sister and brother-in-law are his parents."

Then, for some inexplicable reason, Kathryn Paris burst into tears. Feeling responsible, Tom let out the water and stood. Wrapping his wife in a towel, he carried her to their bed. Laying side by side, skin on skin, he pulled Kate in as close as possible. Only after her emotional explosion was complete did he initiate the intimacy she wanted.

"I only came home to tell you," he confessed in the darkness that surrounded them, "that Neelix fixed the torque issue with the warp ten shuttle."

"Neelix," Kathryn asked, astonished.

"Well, to be fair, something he said got Harry and B'Elanna arguing, which ended in a simulation to prove one of them correct," Tom said. "The simulation worked. We ran it twenty times with the same result. I came to ask permission to go to the next phase. We want to install the engine in Cochrane."

"Which one of them was correct?" Kathryn asked.

"Harry," Tom smirked.

"So, I'll have issues with Engineering for the next week?" she retorted.

"I think they have other ways of working out their differences since Tin Man," Tom responded. "So, can we make the alterations to Cochrane?"

"What are you still doing," she teased, "laying around, Commander, when our journey home might be several years shorter."

"Some women are impossible," he muttered, opening a channel to Torres. It seemed she'd moved to her quarters when the Commander didn't return to the holodeck immediatly.

"What took you so long," B'Elanna demanded. She had her own ideas after hearing the Captain in the background.

"I took a little convincing," Kathryn smirked. "Just make sure you get my husband back in one piece, B'Elanna. I wouldn't want him lost in another part of the galaxy."

"Perhaps I'll send Harry on the initial test," the engineer responded with the same level of humour. Harry could be heard spluttering in the background.

"We'll meet you in Sandrine's," Tom proposed, "in half an hour to discuss the details. Oh, and dinners on you, Torres. Paris out."

A week later they were ready for the first flight. The entire senior team gathered around Cochrane. The small shuttle didn't look any different, even if the warp drive had been completely re-engineered and the warp nacelles reinforced.

"Well, Mr. Paris, make us proud," Captain Paris teased.

"And come back in one piece," Torres added. "We can't afford to lose another shuttle," she gave Chakotay an evil glare. "Besides, I want that data."

"Women," Tom shook his head, sharing a look with Harry. The ensign just smirked. "All she's worried about is her equipment."

"Wouldn't be B'Elanna," Kim retorted, "if she were worried about you!"

"May I suggest," ever the logical one, Tuvok indicated the shuttle bay doors, "we proceed to the bridge and allow the Commander to start is pre-flight checks."

"Damage my shuttle…." Lt. Torres left the threat open.

"Heard it all before, Torres," Tom waved the party away before capturing Kate's hand. Pulling his wife into his arms, Tom added, "wish me luck."

Kate Paris knew what that sentence meant. Each time Commander Paris left on one of his Intelligence missions, they'd developed a personal farewell. Lips meeting, Tom forced his wife to open to him. Tongues duelling, he pulled back suddenly. The intense gaze in Commander Paris's blue eyes was met with grey confusion. He knew his wife had something she wanted to say, but wasn't sure this was the right time.

"Tom," Kathryn sighed.

"Your pregnant Kate," he whispered, fingers lightly brushing her breast. His wife flinched slightly. "I know the signs. Go see the Doc and get it confirmed. This time, be careful."

With that, Commander Thomas Paris turned into a consummate Starfleet Officer. Pivoting, he entered the Cochrane to begin his checks. Shocked, the Captain stood and watched for several seconds. Shaking her head, she bolted for the turbolift. There would be time to find the medical tricorder in her quarters and check her and her husband's suspicions.

Arriving on the bridge, Chakotay smirked as Kathryn marched to her station. Standing by her chair, hands on hips, she started issuing orders. He assumed the Captain and Commander used the intervening moments for a private goodbye. _Voyager_ had never attempted anything like this before. Everyone knew the risks involved. The Captain had more to lose than anyone else but wouldn't allow her feelings to dictate her actions or commands.

"Torres to Bridge," B'Elanna sounded focused. "The pre-launch sequence is complete."

"Acknowledged," Kathryn stated, turning to her operations officer. "Ensign Kim, depressurise the shuttle bay and open the space doors. Bridge to Shuttlecraft Cochrane. You're cleared for launch."

 _As simple as that_ , the Captain sighed and sat, listening to her crew monitoring Tom's progress, _he's gone. Commander Thomas Paris might be the first man to break the transwarp barrier. I couldn't care less. I want my husband back at my side, even if it takes us seventy year to get home_.

"Yes!" Harry's quiet elation echoed across the bridge. Tom's voice could be heard, reading off each achievement until he reached warp 10. Then it happened. The young ensign sounded shocked. "Captain, he just disappeared off sensors."

Five minutes and thirty-two of the longest seconds of Kathryn Paris's life ticked by. Chakotay issued orders, the crew obeyed without question. The Captain sat, transfixed at her station, as if hearing it all from a distance. All the time, a mantra echoed in her head. _He can't be gone! Please don't let him be gone!_

Just as quickly, the Cochrane reappeared, Tom's life sign's weak. Harry transported him directly to sick bay. Without a thought, the Captain shot from her chair for the turbolift. If she'd bothered to take notice, Chakotay's grin said it all. The bridge crew weren't far behind their First Officer.

"Well," the doctor stated as the Captain marched into his domain. "It looks like Mr. Paris's hard head saved him again. One of these days, your luck is going to run out Commander."

The wonderment in her husband's eyes as he recounted his adventure made the moments of worry worth the effort. Lt. Torres burst in, demanding to know everything. Within a very short space of time, _Voyager_ was abuzz. Every person who could be spared worked either on the next phase of the project, or analysed the data collected from this one. The journey home never seemed so real, or so close.

Once released from sick bay, Tom joined Harry and B'Elanna, who were directing every aspect of the project. The three spent hours together, relegating their duty shifts to other's in their departments. Few felt the loss as much as the Captain.

Kate Paris heard her husband as he entered their quarters, only to crash into the bed beside her, physically and mentally exhausted but ecstatic late that first night. A quick peck on the cheek and Tom was snoring, still in his uniform and boots. By the morning he was gone.

The pattern continued the next day as Captain Paris stared at Ensign Baytart's dark head below her at the con. Just about to break for lunch in the hope Tom, Harry and B'Elanna were in the mess, Lt. Torres called a medical emergency. Without saying a word, the Captain glanced at Chakotay, who indicated she should go to sick bay. They both knew something had happened to Tom.

"Hmm," the EMH waved his probe over the prostrate pilot. "Well, Mr. Paris, it looks like you're having an allergic reaction." Snapping the tricorder closed, the Doctor sighed. "You were released less than thirty hours ago. I told your wife to report any issues with me. And here she is. Captain!"

Giving the hologram one of her looks, Kathryn demanded, "report!"

Turning to the Chief Engineer, the EMH requested sardonically, "what did he ingest?"

"Just a cup of Neelix's coffee," B'Elanna stated, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, maybe more than one. We've had work to do."

"It's a miracle he's still alive," the Doctor responded dryly, before the panel on the biobed started to beep. Returning his attention, and the medical tricorder towards his patient, the EHM's expression changed to one of concern. "I'm not sure what's occurring here, Captain. However, it would help to know what happened on that shuttle. Any kind of abnormality might be relivant."

"Lt. Torres," Kathryn ordered.

Nodding, B'Elanna backed out of the room. Before the door closed, the Engineer was barking her own commands over the comm. Sighing, the Captain approached the surgical bay and took her husband's hand.

"We'll get through this, Tom," she promised, worried at the expression on his face.

"Please," the man looked up, his blue eyes perplexed, as if he didn't know who stood beside him. Pulling his fingers from the woman's grasp, he pleaded, "I can't stay here. I have to get off this ship."

Attempting to console her husband, he refused to settle. His breathing becoming more erratic, faster and, finally gasping, Tom started to choke. The EMH forced the Captain out of the surgical bay, before erecting a force field and removing the oxygen from the atmosphere. He replaced it with acetal-chlorine.

"I understand. It's all so clear now," Tom stated, his gaze wild and breathing starting to return to normal in the new atmosphere. However, his complexion was transmuting, becoming duskier.

"Doctor," the Captain demanded an explanation. Watching on in horror, for the first time, the possibility of losing her husband became real.

"I don't know," the EMH frowned, still waving the probe over his patient. His comment had been directed at the Captain and Kes, waiting impatiently on the other side of the barrier. Remaining beside Mr. Paris, he demanded, "what do you understand, Mr. Paris? At this point in time I'll take any help you have to offer."

"The present, the past, they're both in the future," he mumbled. "The future is in the past."

"His DNA is mutating," the EMH growled, more to himself than his audience. "At an alarming rate. There's nothing I can do to stop it. I can't establish a reasonable diagnosis, let alone treat…whatever it is. Kes, his cellular membranes are deteriorating."

Ordering several treatments, the Ocampan woman's fingers flew over the medical stations surgical console. Nothing seemed to work. Standing beside Kes, Kathryn Paris watched on, helpless to do anything. The man she loved was dying. His skin had turned mottled, then blue. Even in the new atmosphere, it was obvious Tom Paris was struggling to breath.

"Listen to me!" Tom suddenly sat up and pulled the Doctor towards him. Hands on the EMH's uniform, he started to shake the hologram. "I am more!" he declared in a tone so unlike the Commanders. Kes and Kathryn stood shocked at his behaviour. "I'm everything. Let me go."

"Go where, Tom?" the Captain finally shook off her personal feelings and used that gravelly tone which demanded respect and attention.

Releasing the EHM, he attempted to stand. Somewhere, he recalled the Captain, that she commanded this ship, that the woman was important to him. "I'll show you."

Just how he moved from the biobed to Kathryn's side, through the energy barrier with such speed, neither Kes nor the Doctor would ever be able to recount. By the time they managed to call in the Captain's abduction, Commander Paris, or at least what was left of him, fired up Cochrane's engines. The shuttle went to transwarp from a standing start within the vehicle bay.

"Sir, the Cochrane has disappeared," Harry informed Chakotay. "One minute it was in the shuttle bay, the next it was, well, gone."

"Sick Bay to the Bridge," the EMH tone indicated they had more than one issue to solve.

It didn't take Chakotay long to realize Mr. Paris had abducted the Captain and taken her on a joy flight at transwap speeds. "Mr. Grimes," he ordered the con, "do the best you can and follow that warp trail. Mr. Kim, extrapolate their direction before they disappear off our long-range sensors and relay it to the con. Tuvok…"

"Torres to the Bridge," B'Elanna interrupted. After being given the go ahead, she offered, "I've analysed the data from the last transwarp jump. You're not going to like the results. Meet me in sick bay. Torres out."

"Your telling me," Chakotay glanced between the Engineer and Doctor, "this new dilithum matrix resonates at a frequency able to alter human DNA."

"Closer," Harry interrupted, watching the screen before him as he analysed the data scrolling across the monitor, "to producing ionising radiation. We used traditional shielding for the warp core casing."

"It wasn't enough," Torres sounded aggrieved. "If we…"

"What's your prognosis," Chakotay cut the engineer off before addressing the EMH, "for the Captain and Commander Paris."

"We need to find them within thirty-six days," the Doctor sighed, "if there's going to be enough human DNA to return them to their previous form."

The surprised but curious expression Chakotay levelled at the Doctor allowed the hologram to continue in his superior tone.

"I have analysed Mr. Paris's condition and believe," the EMH turned on a monitor in his office showing two salamanders like creatures, "this is the end product of the transmutation caused by the radiation. The Commander's DNA conversion commenced thirty hours after the first transwarp trials. Initially the speed of substitution was astounding, but slowed significantly in an aerobic environment."

"Oxygen," Kes responded, feeling the confusion from the non-medical personnel. "At first Tom couldn't breathe the air so we secluded him behind a forcefield. When the doctor substituted oxygen for another inert gas, the DNA changes started. Then he took the Captain, walking right through the forcefield."

"That might explain how he got to the shuttle bay without detection," Harry spoke slowly.

"I hate to agree," the EMH huffed. "Mr. Paris stated he had to get off this ship, that he was 'everything' and mumbled about the past being the future."

"When you initially examined Tom," B'Elanna recalled the Commander's explanation, "he said he was everywhere at the same time when at transwarp. Could it be possible that the experience caused these changes, rather than the radiation?"

"I want everyone to re-examine whatever data you have, share your ideas and come up with a working theory," Chakotay ordered. "Senior Officer's meeting at fifteen hundred. Dismissed."

"We have the how," Acting Captain Chakotay shook his head. They'd followed the Cochranes warp trail for ten days before it became faint. Another fifteen days searching any M class planet within several light years of the Cochrane's last known co-ordinates. "Tuvok, any suggestions?"

Steepling his hands, the Vulcan considered his answer carefully, knowing full well none of the other officers around this table would like his conclusions. "We have nine point six days in which to locate and capture the Captain and Commander Paris. This will allow the Doctor one opportunity to use his experimental method of reverting their DNA to human form. However," Tuvok continued, even though both Harry Kim and B'Elanna Torres levelled hostile glares his way, "we must consider that the Cochrane could be anywhere within the universe, if Mr. Paris's initial report is accurate."

"In other words," Chakotay sighed, "we're looking for a needle in a universe sized haystack."

"Not precisely," the EMH interrupted from the monitor. "These creatures the Captain and Commander are mutating into require an oxygen atmosphere and sunlight. I've sent the exact specifications for the radiant energy band in my report which should decrease the search area significantly. However, I now feel I can break patient confidentiality." That statement brought all eyes to the Doctor. "Before leaving the ship, Captain Paris was five weeks pregnant, possibly with twins, which is to be expected at her age. If my extrapolation is correct and the pregnancy has continued, there is a further requirement which will narrow our search further."

Five days later, several light years from their estimated location, the away team located two creatures resembling the Doctor's holoimages on a hot, humid, swampy planet. They weren't found alone. Three smaller copies, terrified by the smell of the unusual creatures, slipped into the murky waters and disappeared. On the bank, one individual lifted its massive bulk onto four stumpy legs and stepped forward, as if to defend its family.

"May I suggest," Tuvok allowed his eyebrow to rise in a completely Vulcan mannerism, "that creature is Commander Paris."

Smirking, Chakotay caught the Tactical Officer's meaning. Tom Paris would defend his wife with his life, especially if those three little ones were their offspring. "I'm not sure how I'm going to write up this report," the acting Captain muttered under his breath, before turning to the away team and ordering several crewmen to capture the babies. It didn't look like a particularly enticing prospect.

"Slippery little suckers," the Doctor felt proud of himself, using one of Mr. Paris's idioms from the twentieth century while handing the male child to the Captain. Turning the pair back into Mr. and Mrs. Paris took less time than converting their children's DNA.

"Often are, Doc," Tom beamed, a girl in either arm. "My sister has four."

"What," Kes asked softly, "are you going to call them?"

A glint in her eye, Mrs. Kate Paris stated, "this is Edward, after my father. Edward Thomas."

Chuckling, Tom managed to get off his biobed without disturbing either precious bundle in his arms. Leaning in, he kissed his wife softly on the cheek. They had a lot to talk about, but that would come later, when this feeling of euphoria wore off.

"I guess," he teased, "as I finally get what I want, you can name them. Of course, you're going to be looking for a new Chief Conn Officer. My resignation will be on your desk by the morning."

"When we knew they would survive the transformation," the EMH commented, heading off the argument he knew was coming, "Kes started asking for volunteers to help you with caring for three children. Until you are released from sick bay, I want to keep visitors to a minimum. Kes and I will help with Edward and his sister's care."

"So," Tom hoisted himself onto the bed beside his overwhelmed wife, "what are we going to call Ed's twin?"

Looking into the eyes of the girl, they were the same colour as Tom's. At approximately eight months of age, they wouldn't change, or so the doctor informed the first-time mother. Nor would her blond curls. Edward's colouring was similar to his mothers, although his orbs held more blue than grey.

"Jane," Kathryn decided, glancing at the baby in Tom's other arm. "Now, for you, young lady."

The youngest of the children, according to the doctor, had been born from mating on the planet, unlike her twin sibling who were conceived weeks before the transwarp flight. When return to her human form, Grace, as Tom would finally name her a week later, had been the equivalent of a six-week-old.

Starting to make small mewing sounds, Tom recalled his nephews at the same age. "Looks like this one needs her mother," he stated, handing off Jane to Kes, before demanding Edward.

Kathryn Paris looked at her husband with wide eyes, not sure what he was doing. The doctor only just allowed the parents to touch their children for the first time, and now Tom attempted to take her son.

Before he could say anything, the baby's cries started to get stronger and louder. "I know little one," Tom soothed, "Mama's coming with your milk. Sorry, but daddy doesn't have the equipment you need."

Embarrassed, the Captain felt like a first-year cadet. "This," she looked up at her husband, eyes wide in wonderment, "is going to take some getting used to."

"By the way," the EMH stated, leaning over the Captain shoulder to ensure the baby was correctly attached, "I've readministered your contraceptives."


End file.
